The  Water  Goats  and  Other  Troubles 


BY  THE   SAME   AUTHOR 

* 

Pigs  Is  Pigs 

The  Great  American  Pie  Company 

Mike  Flannery   On  Duty  and  Off 

The  Thin  Santa  Claus 

That  Pup,  Kilo,  etc. 


They  anchored  the  water  goats  firmly  in  the  lake 


THE   WATER    GOATS 

AND   OTHER  TROUBLES 

BY 
ELLIS  PARKER  BUTLER 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

HARRISON  CADY,   GUSTAVDS  C.  WIDNEY  AND 
IRMA  DEREMEAUX 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
MCMX 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,  ig  10,  BY  THE  BURR  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  IQOg,  BY  THE   CURTIS   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,    1909,   BY  THE   RIDGWAY   COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,    I9IO,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHED,   JUNE,    IQIO 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.     THE  WATER  GOATS 1 

II.     MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS      ...     45 
III.     OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  ,  .         85 


395363 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


They  anchored  the  water  goats  -firmly 

in  the  lake     ....  Frontispiece 

Facing  page 

A    patent   nursing    bottle,  half  full  of 

milk 48 

"  I  am  a  respectable  married  lady,  leav 
ing  the  building  with  her  husband. 
Unhand  me!"  ....  60 

She  had  a  hereditary  instinct  for  bring 
ing  the  silver  to  the  bedroom  .  .  92 


THE   WATER  GOATS 


THE  WATER  GOATS 

"And  then,"  said  the  landscape  gardener, 
combing  his  silky,  pointed  beard  gently 
with  his  long,  artistic  fingers,  "in  the 
lake  you  might  have  a  couple  of  gondolas. 
Two  would  be  sufficient  for  a  lake  of  this 
size;  amply  sufficient.  Yes,"  he  said  firmly, 
"I  would  certainly  advise  gondolas.  They 
look  well,  and  the  children  like  to  ride  on 
them.  And  so  do  the  adults.  I  would  have 
two  gondolas  in  the  lake." 

Mayor  Dugan  and  the  City  Council,  meet 
ing  as  a  committee  of  the  whole  to  receive  the 
report  of  the  landscape  gardener  and  his  plan- 
for  the  new  public  park,  nodded  their  heads 
sagely. 

%*Sure!"  said  Mayor  Dugan.  "We  want 
two  of  thim  —  of  thim  gon  —  thim  gon " 


4  THE  WATER  GOATS 

"Gondolas,"  said  the  landscape  gardener. 

"Sure!"  said  Mayor  Dugan,  "we  want 
two  of  thim.  Remimber  th'  gondolas,  Toole." 

"I  have  thim  fast  in  me  mind,"  said  Toole. 
"I  will  not  let  thim  git  away,  Dugan." 

The  landscape  gardener  stood  a  minute  in 
deep  thought,  looking  at  the  ceiling. 

"Yes,  that  is  all!"  he  said.  "My  report, 
and  the  plan,  and  what  I  have  mentioned,  will 
be  all  you  need." 

Then  he  shook  hands  with  the  mayor  and 
with  all  the  city  councilmen  and  left  Jeffer- 
sonville  forever,  going  back  to  New  York 
where  landscape  gardeners  grow,  and  the 
doors  were  opened  and  the  committee  of  the 
whole  became  once  more  the  regular  meeting 
of  the  City  Council. 

The  appropriation  for  the  new  park  was 
rushed  through  in  twenty  minutes,  passing  the 
second  and  third  readings  by  the  reading  of 
the  title  under  a  suspension  of  the  by-laws, 
and  being  unanimously  adopted.  It  was  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  with  Mayor  Dugan 


THE  WATER  GOATS  5 

and  his  ring.  Jeffersonville  was  getting  tired 
of  the  joyful  grafters,  and  murmurs  of  dis 
content  were  concentrating  into  threats  of  a 
reform  party  to  turn  the  cheerful  rascals  out. 
The  new  park  was  to  be  a  sop  thrown  to  the 
populace  —  something  to  make  the  city  proud 
of  itself  and  grateful  to  its  mayor  and  council. 
It  was  more  than  a  pet  scheme  of  Mayor 
Dugan,  it  was  a  lifeboat  for  the  ring.  In  half 
an  hour  the  committees  had  been  appointed, 
and  the  mayor  turned  to  the  regular  business. 
Then  from  his  seat  at  the  left  of  the  last  row 
little  Alderman  Toole  arose. 

"Misther  Mayor,"  he  said,  "how  about 
thim  —  thim  don  —  thim  don " 

"Golas!"  whispered  Alderman  Grevemeyer 
hoarsely,  "dongolas." 

"How  about  thim  dongolas,  Misther 
Mayor?"  asked  Alderman  Toole. 

"Sure!"  said  the  mayor.  "Will  anny- 
one  move  that  we  git  two  dongolas  t'  put  in 
th'  lake  for  th'  kids  t'  ride  on?  Will  anny- 
one  move  that  Alderman  Toole  be  a  com- 


6  THE   WATER  GOATS 

mittee  of  wan  t'  git  two  dongolas  t'  put  in 
th'lake?" 

"I  make  dot  motions,"  said  Alderman 
Grevemeyer,  half  raising  his  great  bulk  from 
his  seat  and  sinking  back  with  a  grunt. 

"Sicond  th'  motion,"  said  Alderman  Toole. 

"Moved  and  siconded,"  said  the  mayor, 
"that  Alderman  Toole  be  a  committee  t' 
buy  two  dongolas  t'  put  in  th'  lake  for  th' 
kids  t'  ride  on.  Ye  have  heard  th'  motion." 

The  motion  was  unanimously  carried.  That 
was  the  kind  of  City  Council  Mayor  Dugan 
had  chosen. 

When  little  Alderman  Toftles4Jropped  into 
Casey's  saloon  that  night  on  his  way  home 
he  did  not  slip  meekly  to  the  far  end  of  the 
bar,  as  he  usually  did.  For  tljte^irst  time  in 
his  aldermanic  career  he  had  been  put  on  a 
committee  where  he  would  really  have  some 
thing  to  do,  and  he  felt  the  honour.  He 
boldly  took  a  place  between  the  big  mayor 
and  Alderman  Grevemeyer,  and  said:  "One 
of  th'  same,  Casey,"  with  the  air  of  a  man 


THE   WATER   GOATS  7 

who  has  matters  of  importance  on  his  mind. 
He  felt  that  things  were  coming  his  way. 
Even  the  big  mayor  seemed  to  appreciate  it, 
for  he  put  his  hand  affectionately  on  Toole's 
shoulder. 

"Mike,"  said  the  mayor,  "about  thim  don- 
golas,  now;  have  ye  thought  anny  about  where 
ye  would  be  gettin'  thim?" 

"I  have  not,"  said  Toole.  "I  was  thihkin' 
'twould  be  good  t'  think  it  over  a  bit,  Dugan. 
Mebby  'twould  be  best  t'  git  thim  at  Chicagy." 
He  looked  anxiously  at  the  mayor's  face, 
hoping  for  some  sign  of  approval  or  dis 
approval,  but  the  mayor's  face  was  non 
committal.  ''But  mebby  it  wouldn't," 

concluded    Toole.     As    a    feeler    he    added: 

/ 

Would  ye  jteu^antin'  me  t'  have  thim  made 
here,  Dugan?" 

The  big  mayor  patted  Toole  on  the  shoul 
der  indulgently. 

"  Itfs  up  t'  you,  Mike,"  he  said.  "  Ye  know 
th'  way  Dugan  does  things,  an'  th'  way  he 
likes  thim  done.  I  trust  thirn  that  I  kin 


8  THE   WATER  GOATS 

trust,  an'  whin  I  put  a  man  on  committee  I'm 
done  wid  th'  thing.  Of  coorse,"  he  added, 
putting  his  mouth  close  to  Toole's  ear,  and 
winking  at  Grevemeyer,  "ye  will  see  that 
there  is  a  rake-off  for  me  an'  th'  byes." 

"Sure!"  said  Toole. 

The  big  mayor  turned  back  to  the  bar  and 
took  a  drink  from  his  glass.  Grevemeyer 
took  a  drink  from  his  glass,  also.  So  did 
Toole,  gravely.  Dugan  wiped  his  mouth  on 
the  back  of  his  hand  and  turned  to  Toole 
again. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "what  do  ye  think? 
Mebby  'twould  do  as  well  t'  git  a  couple  of 
sicond-hand  dongolas  an'  have  thim  painted 
up.  If  they  was  in  purty  good  shape  no  wan 
would  know  th'  difference,  an,'  'twould  make 
a  bit  more  rake-off  fer  th'  byes,  mebby." 

"Th'  same  word  was  on  th'  ind  o'  me 
tongue,  Dugan,"  said  Toole,  nodding  his 
head  slowly.  "I  was  considerin'  this  very 
minute  where  I  could  lay  me  hand  on  a 
couple  of  purty  good  dongolas  that  has  not 


THE   WATER  GOATS  9 

been  used  much.  Flannagan  could  paint 
thim  up  fine!" 

"Or  Stoltzenau  could  do  such  paintings," 
interposed  Grevemeyer. 

"Sure!"  agreed  the  big  mayor.  He  toyed 
with  his  glass  a  moment.  "Mike,"  he  said 
suddenly,  "what  th'  divil  is  a  dongola, 
anyhow?" 

Mike  Toole  was  just  raising  his  glass  to 
his  lips  with  the  movements  of  one  accus 
tomed  to  hold  conversation  with  the  mayor. 
His  left  hand  rested  on  his  hip,  with  his  arm 
akimbo,  and  his  hat  was  tipped  carelessly  to 
the  back  of  his  head.  The  hand  raising  his 
glass  stopped  short  where  it  was  when  he 
heard  the  mayor's  question.  He  frowned  at 
the  glass  —  scowled  at  it  angrily. 

"A  dongola,  Dugan" —  he  said  slowly, 
and  stopped.  "A  dongola"  —  he  repeated. 
"A  dongola  —  did  ye  ask  me  what  a  dongola 
might  be,  Dugan  ?" 

The  big  mayor  nodded,  and  Grevemeyer 
leaned  forward  to  catch  the  answer.  Casey, 


10  THE   WATER  GOATS 

too,  leaned  on  his  bar  and  listened.  Alder 
man  Toole  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips  and 
filled  his  mouth  with  the  liquor.  Instantly 
he  dashed  the  glass  furiously  to  the  floor. 
He  jerked  off  his  hat  and  cast  it  into  a  far 
corner  and  pulled  off  his  coat,  throwing  it 
after  his  hat.  He  was  climbing  on  to  the 
bar  when  the  big  mayor  and  Grevemeyer 
laid  their  hands  on  the  little  man  and  held 
him  tightly.  The  big  mayor  shook  him  once 
and  set  him  on  the  floor. 

" Mike!"  said  the  big  mayor.  "  What's  th' 
matter  wid  ye?  Wrhat  are  ye  goin'  afther 
Casey  that  way  for  ?  Is  it  crazy  ye  are  ? 
Or  have  ye  gone  insane?" 

"Knock-out  drops!"  shouted  Toole,  shak 
ing  his  fist  at  Casey,  who  looked  down  at  him 
in  astonishment.  "Knock-out  drops!  I  will 
have  th'  law  on  ye,  Casey.  I  will  have  th' 
joint  closed!  I'll  teach  ye  t'  be  givin'  knock 
out  drops  t'  th'  aldermin  of  th'  city!" 

"Mike!"  cried  the  big  mayor,  giving  him 
another  vigorous  shake.  ^ "  Shut  up  wid 


THE   WATER   GOATS  11 

ye!  Casey  wouldn't  be  givin'  ye  annything 
that  wasn't  good  for  ye.  Casey  wouldn't  be 
givin'  ye  knock-out  drops." 

"No?"  whispered  Mike  angrily.  "No? 
Wouldn't  he,  Dugan?  An'  what  has  he 
done  t'  me  mimory,  then,  Dugan?  What 
has  he  put  in  th'  drink  t'  rob  me  of  me  mim 
ory?  Wan  minute  ago  I  knew  as  well 
anny  other  man  what  a  dongola  is  like,  an' 
now  I  have  no  mimory  of  anny  dongolas  at 
all.  Wan  minute  ago  I  could  have  told  ye 
th'  whole  history  of  dongolas,  from  th'  time 
of  Adam  up  till  now,  an'  have  drawed  a  pic 
ture  of  wan  that  annywan  could  recognize  — 
an'  now  I  wouldn't  know  wan  if  ye  was  t' 
show  it  t'  me!  I  was  about  t'  tell  ye  th'  whole 
history  of  dongolas,  Dugan;  'twas  on  th'  ind 
of  me  tongue  t'  give  ye  a  talk  on  dongolas, 
whin  I  took  a  drink.  Ye  saw  me  take  a 
drink,  Grevemeyer?" 

*Ya!"  said  Grevemeyer,  nodding  his  head 
solemnly.     "You  took  such  a  drink!" 

"Sure,"    said   Toole,    arranging   his   vest 


12  THE   WATER  GOATS 

"Grevemeyer  saw  me  take  th'  drink  —  an5 
now  I  have  no  mimory  of  dongolas  at  all. 
If  ye  was  t'  show  me  a  chromo  of  wan  I 
wouldn't  know  was  it  a  dongola  or  what. 
I'm  ashamed  of  ye,  Casey!" 

"If  ye  done  it,  Casey,  ye  hadn't  have 
ought  t'  have  done  it,"  said  Dugan  reprov 
ingly.  "Th'  mind  of  him  might  be  ruined 
intirely." 

"Stop,  Dugan!"  said  Toole  hastily.  "I 
forgive  him.  Me  mind  will  likely  be  all  right 
by  mornin'.  'Tis  purty  good  yit,  ixcipt  on 
th'  subjict  of  dongolas.  I'm  timporarily  out  of 
remimbrance  what  dongolas  is.  'Tis  odd 
how  thim  knock-out  drops  works,  Greve- 
meyer." 

"Ya!"  said  the  alderman  unsuspectingly, 
"gifing  such  a  forgetfulness  on  such  easy 
things  as  dongolas." 

"Sure!  You  tell  Dugan  what  dongolas  is, 
Grevemeyer,"  said  Toole  quickly. 

Grevemeyer  looked  at  his  glass  thought 
fully.  His  mind  worked  slowly  always,  but 


THE   WATER  GOATS  13 

he  saw  that  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  have 
knock-out  drops  so  soon  after  Toole. 

"Ach!"  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "You  are 
insulting  to  me  mit  such  questions  Toole. 
So  much  will  I  tell  you  —  never  ask  Germans 
what  is  dongolas.  It  is  not  for  Germans  to 
talk  aboudt  such  things.  Ask  Casey." 

Casey  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully. 

"Dongolas?"  he  repeated.  "I  have  heard 
th'  word,  Grevemeyer.  Wait  a  bit!  'Tis 
something  about  shoes.  Sure!  I  remimber, 
now!  'Twas  dongola  shoes  wan  of  me  kids 
had,  last  winter,  an'  no  good  they  were,  too. 
Dongolas  is  shoes,  Grevemeyer  —  laced  shoes 
—  dongolas  is  laced  shoes." 

The  big  mayor  leaned  his  head  far  back 
and  laughed  long  and  loud.  He  pounded  on 
the  bar  with  his  fist,  and  slapped  Toole  on  the 
back. 

"Laced  shoes!"  he  cried,  wiping  his  eyes, 
and  then  he  became  suddenly  serious. 

'Twould  not  be  shoes,  Casey,"  he  said 
gravely.  "Thim  dongolas  was  ricomminded 


14  THE   WATER  GOATS 

by  th'  landscape-gardener  from  New  Yorrk. 
'Twould  not  be  sinsible  t'  ricommind  us  t' 
put  a  pair  of  laced  shoes  in  th'  park  lake  fer 
th'  kids  t'  ride  on." 

'Twould  not  seem  so,"  said  Toole,  shak 
ing  his  head  wisely.  "I  wisht  me  mind  was 
like  it  always  is.  'Tis  a  pity " 

"Stop!"  cried  Casey.  "I  have  it!  Thim 
was  kid  shoes.  Thim  dongolas  was  kid 
shoes." 

"So  ye  said,  Casey,"  said  Dugan.  "For 
th'  kid." 

"No,"  said  Casey,  "o/th'  kid." 

"Sure!"  said  Gravemeyer.  "So  it  is  — 
the  shoes  of  the  child." 

"Right  fer  ye!"  exclaimed  Casey.  "Th' 
kid  shoes  of  th'  kid.  'Twas  kid  leather  they 
were  made  out  of,  Dugan.  Th'  dongola  is 
some  fancy  kind  of  a  goat.  Like  box-calf 
is  th'  skin  of  th'  calf  of  th'  box-cow.  Th' 
dongola  is  some  foreign  kind  of  a  goat, 
Dugan." 

"Ho,  ho-o-o!"     cried     Toole,     suddenly, 


THE   WATER  GOATS  15 

knocking  on  his  forehead  with  the  knuckles 
of  his  fist.  The  three  men  turned  their  eyes 
upon  him  and  stared. 

"What  ails  ye  now,  Mike?"  asked  Dugan, 
disgustedly. 

"Ho-o-o!"  he  cried  again,  slapping  him 
self  on  the  top  of  his  head.  "Me  mind  is 
comin'  back  t'  me,  Dugan!  Th'  effects 
of  th'  knock-out  drops  is  wearin'  off!  I 
recall  now  that  th'  dongola  is  some  fancy 
kind  of  a  goat.  'Twill  all  come  back  t'  me 


soon." 


"Go  along  wid  ye!"  exclaimed  Dugan. 
"Would  ye  be  puttin'  a  goat  in  th'  lake  for 
th' kids  t' ride  on?" 

"Sure!"  said  Toole  enthusiastically.  "Sure 
I  would,  Dugan.  Not  th'  common  goat  I 
wouldn't.  But  dongola  goats  I  would.  Have 
ye  heard  of  dongola  water  goats,  Casey  ? 
Was  thim  dongola  goat  skin  shoes  war 
ranted  t'  be  water-proof?" 

Casey  wrinkled  his  brow. 

"'Tis    like    they    was,    Toole,"    he    said 


16  THE   WATER  GOATS 

doubtfully.  "'Tis  like  they  was  warranted 
t'  be,  but  they  wasn't." 

"Sure!"  cried  Toole  joyously.  "'Tis 
water-proof  th'  skin  of  th'  dongola  water 
goats  is,  like  th'  skin  of  th'  duck.  An' 
swim?  A  duck  isn't  in  it  wid  a  water  goat. 
I  remimber  seein'  thim  in  ould  Ireland 
whin  I  was  a  bye,  Dugan,  swimmin  in 
th'  lake  of  Killarney.  Ah,  'twas  a  purty 
picture." 

"I  seem  t'  remimber  thim  mesilf,"  he  said. 
"Not  clear,  but  a  bit." 

"Sure  ye  do!"  cried  Toole.  "Many's  the 
time  I  have  rode  across  th'  lake  on  th'  back 
of  a  dongola.  Me  own  father,  who  was  a 
big  man  in  th'  ould  country,  used  t'  keep  a 
pair  of  thim  for  us  childer.  'Twas  himself 
fetched  thim  from  Donnegal,  Dugan.  'Twas 
from  Donnegal  they  got  th'  name  of  thim,  an' 
'twas  th'  name  ye  give  thim  that  misled  me. 
Donnegoras  was  what  we  called  thim  in'th' 
ould  country  —  donnegoras  from  Donnegal. 
I  remimber  th'  two  of  thim  I  had  whin  I  was 


THE   WATER   GOATS  17 

a  kid,  Dugan  —  wan  was  a  Nanny,  an'  wan 
was  a  Billy,  an' " 

"Go  on  home,  Mike,"  said  Dugan.  "Go 
on  home  an'  sleep  it  off!"  and  the  little  alder 
man  from  the  Fourth  Ward  picked  up  his 
hat  and  coat,  and  obeyed  his  orders. 

Instituting  a  new  public  park  and  seeing 
that  in  every  purchase  and  every  contract 
there  is  a  rake-off  for  the  ring  is  a  big  job, 
and  between  this  and  the  fight  against  the 
rapidly  increasing  strength  of  the  reform 
party,  Mayor  Dugan  had  his  hands  more  than 
full.  He  had  no  time  to  think  of  dongolas, 
and  he  did  not  want  to  think  of  them  — 
Toole  was  the  committee  on  dongolas,  and  it 
was  his  duty  to  think  of  them,  and  to  worry 
about  them,  if  any  worry  was  necessary.  But 
Toole  did  not  worry.  He  sat  down  and  wrote 
a  letter  to  his  cousin  Dennis,  official  keeper 
of  the  zoo  in  Idlewild  Park  at  Franklin, 
Iowa. 

"Dear  Dennis,"  he  wrote.  "  Have  you  any 
dongola  goats  in  your  menagery  for  I  want  two 


18  THE   WATER   GOATS 

right  away  good  strong  ones  answer  right 
away  your  affectionate  cousin  alderman 
Michael  Toole. 

"Ps  monny  no  object." 

When  Dennis  Toole  received  this  letter  he 
walked  through  his  zoo  and  considered  his 
animals  thoughtfully.  The  shop- worn  brown 
bear  would  not  do  to  fill  cousin  Mike's  order; 
neither  would  the  weather-worn  red  deer 
nor  the  family  of  variegated  tame  rabbits. 
The  zoo  of  Idlewild  Park  at  Franklin  was 
woefully  short  of  dongola  goats  —  in  fact, 
to  any  but  the  most  imaginative  and  easily 
pleased  child,  it  was  lacking  in  nearly  every 
thing  that  makes  a  zoo  a  congress  of  the 
world's  most  rare  and  thrilling  creatures. 
After  all,  the  nearest  thing  to  a  goat  \\^s  a 
goat,  and  goats  were  plenty  in  Franklin. 
Dennis  felt  an  irresistible  longing  to  aid  Mike 
—  the  longing  that  comes  to  any  healthy  man 
when  a  request  is  accompanied  by  the  legend 
"Money  no  object."  He  wrote  that  even 
ing  to  Mike. 


THE   WATER  GOATS  19 

"Dear  Mike,'" he  wrote.  "I've  got  two 
yood  strong  dongola  goats  I  can  let  you 
iiave  cheap.  I'm  overstocked  with  don- 
?olas  to-day.  I  want  to  get  rid  of  two. 
£00  is  getting  too  crowded  with  all  kinds 
3f  animals  and  I  don't  need  so  many  don 
gola  goats.  I  will  sell  you  two  for  fifty 
dollars.  Apiece.  What  do  you  want  them 
r'or  ?  Your  affectionate  cousin,  Dennis  Toole, 
Zoo  keeper.  PS.  Crates  extra." 

"Casey,"  said  Mike  to  his  friend  the 
saloon  keeper  when  he  received  this  com 
munication,  ' '  'tis  just  as  I  told  ye  —  don- 

las  is  goats.  I  have  been  corrispondin' 
with  wan  of  th'  celibrated  animal  men  re- 
gardin'  th'  dongola  water  goat,  an'  I  have 
me  eye  on  two  of  thim  this  very  minute. 
But  'twill  be  ixpinsive,  Casey,  mighty  ixpin- 
sive.  Th'  dongola  water  goat  is  a  rare 
birrd,  ^asey.  They  have  become  extinct 
in  th'  lakes  of  Ireland,  an'  what  few  of 
thim  is  left  in  th'  worrld  is  held  at  out- 
raj  eous  prices.  In  th'  letter  I  have  from  th' 
animal  man,  Casey,  he  wants  two  hundred 
dollars  apiece  for  each  dongola  water  goat, 


20  THE   WATER  GOATS 

an'  'twill  be  no  easy  thing  for  him  t'  git 
thim." 

"Hasn't  he  thim  in  his  shop,  Mike?" 
asked  Casey. 

"He  has  not,  Casey,"  said  the  little  alder 
man.  "He  has  no  place  for  thim.  Cages  he 
has,  an'  globes  for  goldfish,  an'  birrd  cages, 
but  th'  size  of  th'  shop  1'aves  no  room  for  an 
aquarium,  Casey.  He  has  no  tank  for  th' 
preservation  of  water  goats.  Hippopota 
muses  an'  alligators  an'  crocodiles  an'  don- 
gola  water  goats  an'  sea  lions  he  does  not 
keep  in  stock,  Casey,  but  sinds  out  an' 
catches  thim  whin  ordered.  He  writes  that 
his  agints  has  their  eyes  on  two  fine  don- 
golas,  an'  he  has  tiligraphed  thim  t'  catch 
thim." 

"'Are  they  near  by,  Mike?"  asked  Casey, 
much  interested. 

"Naw,"  said  Toole.  "'Twill  be  some 
time  till  1  git  thim.  Th'  last  he  heard  of 
thim  they  were  swimmin'  in  th'  Lake  of 
Geneva." 


THE   WATER  GOATS  21 

"Is  it  far,  th'  lake?"  asked  Casey. 

"I  disremimber  how  far,"  said  Toole. 
"  'Tis  in  Africa  or  Asia,  or  mebby  'tis  in  Con 
stantinople.  Wan  of  thim  countries  it  is, 
annyhow." 

But  to  his  cousin  Dennis  he  wrote: 

"Dear  Dennis  —  I  will  take  them  two 
dongolas.  Crate  them  good  and  solid.  Do 
not  send  them  till  I  tell  you.  Send  the  bill 
to  me.  Your  affectionate  cousin  alderman 
Michael  Toole.  Ps  Make  bill  for  two  hun-x 
dred  dollars  a  piece.  Business  is  business. 
This  is  between  us  two.  M.  T." 

A  Keeper  of  the  Water  Goats  bad  been 
selected  with  the  utmost  care,  combining 
in  the  choice  practical  politics  with  a  sense 
of  fitness.  Timothy  Fagan  was  used  to 
animals  —  for  years  he  had  driven  a  dump- 
cart.  He  was  used  to  children  —  he  had 
ten  or  eleven  of  his  own.  And  he  controlled 
several  votes  in  the  Fourth  Ward.  His  ele 
vation  from  the  dump-cart  of  the  street  clean 
ing  department  to  the  high  office  of  Keeper 


22  THE   WATER  GOATS 

of  the   Water   Goats   was   one   that   Dugan 
believed  would  give  general  satisfaction. 

When  the  goats  arrived  in  Jeffersonville 
the  two  heavy  crates  were  hauled  to  Alder 
man  Toole's  back  yard  to  await  the  opening 
of  the  park,  and  there  Mayor  Dugan  and 
Goat  Keeper  Fagan  came  to  inspect  them. 
Alderman  Toole  led  the  way  to  them  with 
pride,  and  Mayor  Dugan's  creased  brow 
almost  uncreased  as  he  bent  down  and 
peered  between  the  bars  of  the  crates.  They 
were  fine  goats.  Perhaps  they  looked  some 
what  more  dejected  than  a  goat  usually 
looks  —  more  dirty  and  down  at  the  heels  than 
a  goat  often  looks  —  but  they  were  un-j 
doubtedly  goats.  As  specimens  of  ordinary^ 
Irish  goats  they  might  not  have  passed  mus 
ter  with  a  careful  buyer,  but  no  doubt  they1 
were  excellent  examples  of  the  dongola. 

"Ye  have  done  good,  Mike,"  said  the 
mayor.  "Ye  have  done  good!  But  ain't 
they  mebby  a  bit  off  their  feed  —  or  some 
thing?" 


THE   WATER   GOATS  23 

"Off  their  feed!"  said  Toole.  "An'  who 
wouldn't  be,  poor  things  ?  Mind  ye,  Dugan, 
thim  is  not  common  goats  —  thim  is  don- 
golas  —  an'  used  to  bein'  in  th'  wather  con- 
continuous  from  mornin'  till  night.  'Tis 
sufferin'  for  a  swim  they  be,  poor  animals. 
Wance  let  thim  git  in  th'  lake  an'  ye  will  see 
th'  difference,  Dugan.  'Twill  make  all  th' 
difference  in  th'  worrld  t'  thim.  'Tis  dyin' 
for  a  swim  they  are." 

6  ( Sure ! ' '  said  the  Keeper  of  the  Water  Goats. 

"Ye  have  done  good,  Mike,"  said  the 
mayor  again.  "Thim  dongolas  will  be  a 
big  surprise  for  th'  people." 

They  were.  They  surprised  the  Keeper 
of  the  Goats  first  of  all.  The  day  before 
the  park  was  to  be  opened  to  the  public  the 
goats  were  taken  to  the  park  and  turned  over 
to  their  official  keeper.  At  eleven  o'clock 
that  morning  Alderman  Toole  was  leaning 
against  Casey's  bar,  confidentially  pouring 
into  his  ear  the  story  of  how  the  dongolas  had 
given  their  captors  a  world  of  trouble,  swim- 


24  THE   WATER  GOATS 

ming  violently  to  the  far  reaches  *bf  Lake 
Geneva  and  hiding  among  the  bulrushes  and 
reeds,  when  the  swinging  door  of  the  saloon 
was  banged  open  and  Tim  Fagan  rushed  in. 
He  was  mad.  He  was  very  mad,  but  he  was 
a  great  deal  wetter  than  mad.  He  looked  as 
if  he  had  been  soaked  in  water  over  night, 
and  not  wrung  out  in  the  morning. 

"Mike!"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  grasp 
ing  the  little  alderman  by  the  arm.  "I  want 
ye!  I  want  ye  down  at  th'  park." 

A  chill  of  fear  passed  over  Alderman  Toole. 
He  turned  his  face  to  Fagan  and  laid  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder: 

"Tim,"  he  demanded,  "has  annything 
happened  t'  th'  dongolas?" 

"Is  annything  happened  t'  th'  dongolas!" 
exclaimed  Fagan  sarcastically.  "Is  anny 
thing  wrong  with  thim  water  goats  ?  Oh,  no, 
Toole!  Nawthin'  has  gone  wrong  with  thim! 
Only  they  won't  go  into  th'  wather,  Mike! 
Is  annything  gone  wrong  with  thim,  did  ye 
say?  Nawthin'!  They  be  in  good  health, 


THE   WATER  GOATS  25 

but  they  are  not  crazy  t'  be  swimmin'.  Th' 
way  they  do  not  hanker  t'  dash  into  th'  water 
is  marvellous,  Mike.  No  water  for  thim!" 

"Hist!"  said  Toole  uneasily,  glancing 
around  to  see  that  no  one  but  Casey  was  in 
hearing.  "Mebby  ye  have  not  started  thim 
right,  Tim." 

"  Mebby  not,"  said  Fagan  angrily.  "  Mebby 
I  do  not  know  how  t'  start  th'  water  goat, 
Toole!  Mebby  there  is  one  way  unbe 
knownst  t'  me.  If  so,  I  have  not  tried  it.  But 
th'  forty-sivin  other  ways  I  have  tried,  an' 
th'  goats  will  not  swim.  I  have  started 
thim  backwards  an'  I  have  started  thim 
frontwards,  an'  I  have  took  thim  in  by  th' 
horns  an'  give  thim  lessons  t'  swim,  an'  they 
will  not  swim!  I  have  done  me  duty  by 
thim,  Mike,  an'  I  have  wrastled  with  thim, 
an'  rolled  in  th'  lake  with  thim.  Was  it  t' 
be  swimmin'  teacher  t'  water  goats  ye  got 
me  this  job  for?" 

"Hist!"  said  Toole  again.  "Not  so  loud, 
Tim!  Ye  haven't  told  Dugan  have  ye ?" 


26  THE   WATER  GOATS 

"I  have  not!"  said  Tim,  with  anger.  "I 
have  not  told  annybody  annything  excipt 
thim  goats  an'  what  I  told  thim  is  not  dacint 
hearin'.  I  have  conversed  with  thim  in  strong 
language,  an'  it  done  no  good.  No  swimmin' 
for  thim !  Come  on  down  an'  have  a  chat 
with  thim  yersilf,  Toole.  Come  on  down 
an'  argue  with  thim,  an  persuade  thim  with 
th'  soft  sound  of  yer  voice  t'  swim.  Come 
on  down  an'  git  thim  water  goats  used  t'  th' 
water." 

"Ye  don't  understand  th'  water  goat, 
Tim,"  said  Tooje  in  gentle  reproof.  "I  will 
show  ye  how  t'  handle  him,"  and  he  went  out, 
followed  by  the  wet  Keeper  of  the  Water 
Goats. 

The  two  water  goats  stood  at  the  side  of 
the  lake,  wet  and  mournful,  tied  to  two  strong 
stakes.  They  looked  weary  and  meek,  for 
they  had  had  a  hard  morning,  but  as  soon 
as  they  saw  Tim  Fagan  they  brightened  up. 
They  arose  simultaneously  on  their  hind 
legs  and  their  eyes  glittered  with  deadly 


THE   WATER  GOATS  27 

hatred.  They  strained  at  their  ropes,  and 
then,  suddenly,  panic-stricken,  they  turned 
and  ran,  bringing  up  at  the  ends  of  their  ropes 
with  a  shock  that  bent  the  stout  stakes  to 
which  they  were  fastened.  They  stood  still 
and  cowered,  trembling. 

"Lay  hold!"  commanded  Toole.  "Lay 
hold  of  a  horn  of  th'  brute  till  I  show  ye  how 
t'  make  him  swim." 

Through  the  fresh  gravel  of  the  beach  the 
four  feet  of  the  reluctant  goat  ploughed  deep 
furrows.  It  shook  its  head  from  side  to  side, 
but  Toole  and  Fagan  held  it  fast,  and  into  the 
water  it  went." 

"Now!"  cried  Alderman  Toole.  "Git 
behind  an' push,  Tim!  Wan!  Two!  Three! 
Push!" 

Alderman  Toole  released  his  hold  and 
Keeper  of  the  Water  Goats  Fagan  pushed. 
Then  they  tried  the  other  goat.  It  was  easier 
to  try  the  other  water  goat  than  to  waste  time 
hunting  up  the  one  they  had  just  tried,  for  it 
had  gone  away.  As  soon  as  Alderman  Toole 


28  THE   WATER  GOATS 

let  it  go,  it  went.  It  seemed  to  want  to  get 
to  the  other  end  of  "the  park  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,  but  it  did  not  take  the  short  cut  across 
the  lake  —  it  went  around.  But  it  did  not 
mind  travel  —  it  went  to  the  farthest  part  of 
the  park,  and  it  would  have  gone  farther  if  it 
could.  So  Alderman  Toole  and  Keeper 
Fagan  tried  the  other  water  goat.  That  one 
went  straight  to  the  other  end  of  the  park. 
It  swerved  from  a  straight  line  but  once,  and 
that  was  when  it  shied  at  a  pail  of  water  that 
was  in  the  way.  It  did  not  seem  to  like 
water. 

In  the  Franklin  Zoo  Dennis  Toole  had  just 
removed  the  lid  of  his  tin  lunch-pail  when  the 
telegraph  boy  handed  him  the  yellow  envel 
ope.  He  turned  it  over  and  over,  studying 
its  exterior,  while  the  boy  went  to  look  at  the 
shop- worn  brown  bear.  The  zoo  keeper 
decided  that  there  was  no  way  to  find  out 
what  was  inside  of  the  envelope  but  to  open 
it.  He  was  ready  for  the  worst.  He  won 
dered,  unthinkingly,  which  one  of  his  forty 


THE   WATER  GOATS  29 

or  more  cousins  was  dead,  and  opened  the 
envelope. 

"Dennis  Toole,  Franklin  Zoo,"  he  read, 
"Dongolas  won't  swim.  How  do  you  make 
them  swim?  Telegraph  at  once.  Michael 
Toole." 

He  laid  the  telegram  across  his  knees  and 
looked  at  it  as  if  it  was  some  strange  com 
munication  from  another  sphere.  He  pushed 
his  hat  to  one  side  of  his  head  and  scratched 
the  tuft  of  red  hair  thus  bared. 

"Dongolas  won't  swim!"  he  repeated 
slowly.  "An'  how  do  I  make  thim  swim?  I 
wonder  does  Cousin  Mike  take  th'  goat  t' 
be  a  fish,  or  what?  I  wonder  does  he  take 
swimmin'  to  be  wan  of  th'  accomplishments 
of  th'  goat?"  He  shook  his  head  in  puzzle 
ment,  and  frowned  at  the  telegram.  "Would 
he  be  havin'  a  goat  regatta,  I  wonder,  or  was 
he  expectin'  th'  goat  t'  be  a  web-footed  ani 
mal  ?  'Won't  swim!'"  he  repeated  angrily. 

'  Won't  swim ! '    An'  what  is  it  to  me  if  they 
won't   swim?     Nayther   would   I   swim   if  I 


30  THE   WATER  GOATS 

was  a  goat.  'Tis  none  of  me  affair  if  they 
will  not  swim.  There  was  nawthin'  said 
about  'swimmin'  goats.'  Goats  I  can  give 
him,  an'  dongola  goats  I  can  give  him,  an' 
jumpin'  goats,  an'  climbin'  goats,  an'  walkin' 
goats,  but  'tis  not  in  me  line  t'furnish  sub 
marine  goats.  No,  nor  goats  t'  fly  up  in  th' 
air!  Would  anny  one,"  he  said  with  exas 
peration,  "  would  anny  one  that  got  a  plain 
order  for  goats  ixpict  t'  have  t'  furnish  goats 
that  would  hop  up  off  th'  earth  an'  make  a 
balloon  ascension?  'Tis  no  fault  of  Dennis 
Toole's  thim  goats  won't  swim.  What  will 
Mike  be  telegraphin'  me  nixt,  I  wonder  ? 
'Dear  Dennis:  Th'  goats  won't  lay  eggs. 
How  do  ye  make  thim?'  Bye,  have  ye  a 
piece  of  paper  t'  write  an  answer  t'  me  cousin 
Mike  on?" 

The  Keeper  of  the  Water  Goats  and  Alder 
man  Toole  were  sitting  on  a  rustic  bench  look 
ing  sadly  at  the  water  goats  when  the  Jefferson- 
ville  telegraph  messenger  brought  them  Dennis 
Toole's  answer.  Alderman  Toole  grasped  the 


THE   WATER   GOATS  31 

4 

envelope  eagerly  and  tore  it  open,  and  Fagan 
leaned  over  his  shoulder  as  he  read  it: 

"Michael  Toole,  Alderman,  Jefferson ville," 
they  read.  "Put  them  in  the  water  and  see 
if  they  will  swim.  Dennis  Toole." 

"Put  thim  in  th'  wather!"  exclaimed 
Alderman  Toole  angrily.  "Why  don't  ye 
put  thim  in  th'  wather,  Fagan?  Why  did 
ye  not  think  t'  put  thim  in  th'  wather?" 
He  looked  down  at  his  soaking  clothes, 
and  his  anger  increased.  "Why  have  ye 
been  try  in'  t'  make  thim  dongolas  swim 
on  land,  Fagan?"  he  asked  sarcastically. 
"Or  have  ye  been  throwin'  thim  up  in  th' 
air  t'  see  thim  swim?  Why  don't  ye  put 
thim  in  th'  wather  ?  Why  don't  ye  follow 
th'  instructions  of  th'  expert  dongola  water 
goat  man  an'  put  thim  in  th'  wather  if  ye 
want  thim  t'  swim?" 

Fagan  looked  at  the  angry  alderman.  He 
looked  at  the  dripping  goats. 

"So  I  did,  Mike,"  he  said  seriously.  "We 
both  of  us  did." 


32  THE   WATER   GOATS 

"An'  did  we!"  cried  Alderman  Toole  in 
mock  surprise.  "Is  it  possible  we  thought 
t'  put  thim  in  th'  wather  whin  we  wanted 
thim  t'  swim?  It  was  in  me  mind  that  we 
tied  thim  to  a  tree  an'  played  ring-around-a- 
rosy  with  thim  t'  induce  thim  t'  swim! 
Where's  a  pencil  ?  Where's  a  piece  of  paper  ?" 
he  cried. 

He  jerked  them  from  the  hand  of  the 
messenger  boy.  The  afternoon  was  half 
worn  away.  Every  minute  was  precious. 
He  wrote  hastily  and  handed  the  message  to 
the  messenger  boy. 

"Fagan,"  he  said,  as  the  boy  disappeared 
down  the  path  at  a  run,  "raise  up  yer  spirits 
an'  come  an'  give  th'  water  goats  some  more 
instructions  in  th'  ginteel  art  of  swimmin' 
in  th'  wather." 

Fagan  sighed  and  arose.  He  walked  to 
ward  the  dejected  water  goats,  and,  taking 
the  nearest  one  by  the  horns  yanked  it  toward 
the  lake.  The  goat  was  too  weak  to  do  more 
than  hold  back  feebly  and  bleat  its  dis 


THE   WATER   GOATS  33 

approval  of  another  bath.  The  more  lessons 
in  swimming  it  received  the  less  it  seemed  to 
like  to  swim.  It  had  developed  a  positive 
hatred  of  swimming. 

Dennis  Toole  received  the  second  tele 
gram  with  a  savage  grin.  He  had  expected 
it.  He  opened  it  with  malicious  slowness. 

"Dennis  Toole,  Franklin  Zoo,"  he  read. 
"Where  do  you  think  I  put  them  to  make 
them  swim?  They  won't  swim  in  the  lake. 
It  won't  do  no  good  to  us  for  them  to  swim 
on  dry  land.  No  fooling,  now,  how  do  you 
make  them  dongolas  swim?  Answer  quick. 
Michael  Toole." 

He  did  not  have  to  study  out  his  reply,  for 
he  had  been  considering  it  ever  since  he  had 
sent  the  other  telegram.  He  took  a  blank 
from  the  boy  and  wrote  the  answer.  The 
sun  was  setting  when  the  Jeffersonville  mes 
senger  delivered  it  to  Alderman  Toole. 

"Mike  Toole,  Jeffersonville,"  it  said. 
"Quit  fooling,  yourself.  Don't  you  know 
young  dongolas  are  always  water-shy  at  first  ? 


34  THE   WATER   GOATS 

Tie  them  in  the  lake  and  let  them  soak,  and 
they  will  learn  to  swim  fast  enough.  If  I 
didn't  know  any  more  about  dongolas  than 
you  do  I  would  keep  clear  of  them.  Dennis 
Toole." 


"Listen  to  that  now,"  said  Alderman 
Toole,  a  smile  spreading  over  his  face.  "An' 
who  ever  said  I  knew  annything  about  water 
goats,  anny  how?  Th'  natural  history  of 
th'  water  goat  is  not  wan  of  the  things  usually 
considered  part  of  th'  iducation  of  th'  alder- 
min  from  th'  Fourth  Ward,  Fagan,  but  'tis 
surprised  I  am  that  ye  did  not  know  th'  goat 
is  like  th'  soup  bean,  an'  has  t'  be  soaked 
before  usin'.  Th'  Keeper  of  th'  Water  Goat 
should  know  th'  habits  of  th'  animal,  Fagan. 
Why  did  ye  not  put  thim  in  to  soak  in  th'  first 
place?  I  am  surprised  at  ye!" 

"It  escaped  me  mind,"  said  Fagan.  "I 
was  thinkin'  these  was  broke  t'  swimmin'  an* 
did  not  need  t'  be  soaked.  I  wonder  how 
long  they  should  be  soaked,  Mike?" 

"  'Twill   do  no  harrm  t'   soak  thim  over 


THE   WATER   GOATS  35 

night,  anny  how,"  said  Toole.  "Over  night 
is  th'  usual  soak  given  t'  th'  soup-bean  an' 
th'  salt  mackerel,  t'  say  nawthin'  of  th'  cod 
fish  an'  others  of  th'  water-goat  family.  Let 
th'  water  goats  soak  over  night,  Fagan,  an' 
by  mornin'  they  will  be  ready  t'  swim  like  a 
trout.  We  will  anchor  thim  in  th'  lake, 
Fagan  —  an'  we  will  say  nawthin'  t'  Dugan. 
'Twould  be  a  blow  t'  Dugan  was  he  t'  learn 
th'  dongolas  provided  fer  th'  park  was  young 
an'  wather-shy." 

They  anchored  the  water  goats  firmly  in 
the  lake,  and  left  them  there  to  overcome 
their  shyness,  which  seemed,  as  Fagan  and 
Toole  left  them,  to  be  as  great  as  ever.  The 
goats  gazed  sadly,  and  bleated  longingly, 
after  the  two  men  as  they  disappeared  in  the 
dusk,  and  when  the  men  had  passed  entirely 
out  of  sight,  the  goats  looked  at  each  other 
and  complained  bitterly. 

Alderman  Toole  thoughtfully  changed  his 
wet  clothes  for  dry  ones  before  he  went  to 
Casey's  that  evening,  for  he  thought  Dugan 


36  THE    WATER  GOATS 

might  be  there,  and  he  was.  He  was  there 
when  Toole  arrived,  and  his  brow  was  black. 
He  had  had  a  bad  day  of  it.  Everything  had 
gone  wrong  with  him  and  his  affairs.  A  large 
lump  of  his  adherents  had  sloughed  off  from 
his  party  and  had  affiliated  with  his  oppo 
nents,  and  the  evening  opposition  paper  had 
come  out  with  a  red-hot  article  condemning 
the  administration  for  reckless  extravagance. 
It  had  especially  condemned  Dugan  for 
burdening  the  city  with  new  bonds  to  create 
an  unneeded  park,  and  the  whole  thing  had 
ended  with  a  screech  of  ironic  laughter  over 
the  —  so  the  editor  called  it  —  fitting  cap 
stone  of  the  whole  business,  the  purchase 
of  two  dongola  goats  at  perfectly  extravagant 
prices. 

"Mike,"  said  the  big  mayor  severely,  when 
the  little  alderman  had  offered  his  greetings, 
"there  is  the  divil  an'  all  t'  pay  about  thim 
dongolas.  Th'  News  is  full  of  thim.  'Twill 
be  th'  ind  of  us  all  if  they  do  not  pan  out  well. 
Have  ye  tried  thim  in  th'  water  yet  ?" 


THE   WATER   GOATS  37 

"Sure!"  exclaimed  the  little  alderman  with 
a  heartiness  he  did  not  feel.  "What  has  me 
an'  Fagan  been  doin'  all  day  but  tryin'  thim? 
Have  no  fear  of  th'  wather  goats,  Dugan." 

"Do  they  swim  well,  Mike?"  asked  the 
big  mayor  kindly,  but  with  a  weary  heavi 
ness  he  did  not  try  to  conceal. 

"Swim!"  exclaimed  Toole.  "Did  ye  say 
swim,  Dugan  ?  Swim  is  no  name  for  th' 
way  they  rip  thro'  the  wather!  'Twas  mar 
vellous  t'  see  thim.  Ah,  thim  dongolas  is 
wonderful  animals!  Do  ye  think  we  could 
persuade  thim  t'  come  out  whin  we  wanted 
t'  come  home?  Not  thim,  Dugan!  'Twas 
all  me  an'  Fagan  could  do  t'  pull  thim  out  by 
main  force,  an'  th'  minute  we  let  go  of  thim, 
back  they  wint  into  th'  wather.  'Twas  piti 
ful  t'  hear  th'  way  they  bleated  t'  be  let  back 
into  th'  wather  agin,  Dugan,  so  we  let  thim 
stay  in  for  th'  night." 

"Ye  did  not  let  thim  loose  in  th'  lake, 
Mike?"  exclaimed  the  big  mayor.  'Ye  did 
not  let  thim  be  so  they  could  git  away  ?" 


38  THE   WATER   GOATS 

"No,"  said  Toole.  "No!  They'll  not 
git  away,  Dugan.  We  anchored  thim  fast." 

"Ye  done  good,  Mike,"  said  the  big 
mayor. 

The  next  morning  Keeper  of  the  Water 
Goats  Fagan  was  down  sufficiently  early  to 
drag  the  bodies  of  the  goats  out  of  the  lake 
long  before  even  the  first  citizen  was  admitted 
to  the  park.  Alone,  and  hastily  he  hid  them 
in  the  little  tool  house,  and  locked  the  door 
on  them.  Then  he  went  to  find  Alderman 
Toole.  He  found  him  in  the  mayor's  office, 
and  beckoned  him  to  one  side.  In  hot, 
quick  accents  he  told  him  the  untimely 
fate  of  the  dongola  water  goats,  and  the 
mayor  —  with  an  eye  for  everything  on  that 
important  day  —  saw  the  red  face  of  Alder 
man  Toole  grow  longer  and  redder;  saw  the 
look  of  pain  and  horror  that  overspread  it. 
A  chilling  fear  gripped  his  own  heart. 

"Mike,"  he  said.  "What's  th'  matter 
with  th'  dongolas?" 

It  was  Fagan  who  spoke,  while  the  little 


THE   WATER   GOATS  39 

alderman  from  the  Fourth  Ward  stood  bereft 
of  speech  in  this  awful  moment. 

"Dugan,"  he  said,  "I  have  not  had  much 
ixperience  with  th'  dongola  wather  goat,  an' 
th'  ways  an'  habits  of  thim  is  strange  t'  me, 
but  if  I  was  t'  say  what  I  think,  I  would  say 
they  was  over-soaked." 

"  Over-soaked,  Fagan?"  said  the  mayor 
crossly.  "Talk  sense,  will  ye?" 

4  *  Sure!"  said  Fagan.  "An5  over-soaked 
is  what  I  say.  Thim  water  goats  has  all  th' 
looks  of  bein'  soaked  too  long.  I  would  not 
say  positive,  Yer  Honour,  but  that  is  th'  looks 
of  thim.  If  me  own  mother  was  t'  ask  me  I 
|  would  say  th'  same,  Dugan.  'Soakin'  too 
,long  done  it,'  is  what  I  would  say." 

"You  are  a  fool,  Fagan!"  exclaimed  the 
[big  mayor. 

"Well,"   said  Fagan  mildly,  "I  have  not 

['had    much    ixperience    in    soakin'    dongolas, 

if  ye  mean  that,  Dugan.     I  do  not  set  up  t' 

be  an  expert  dongola  soaker.     I  do  not  know 

th'  rules  t'  go  by.     Some  may  like  thim  soaked 


40  THE   WATER  GOATS 

long  an'  some  may  like  thim  soaked  not  so 
long,  but  if  I  was  to  say,  I  would  say  thim 
two  dongolas  at  th'  park  has  been  soaked 
a  dang  sight  too  long.  Th'  swim  has  been 
soaked  clean  out  of  thim." 

"Are  they  sick?"  asked  the  big  mayor. 
"What  is  th'  matter  with  thim?" 

"They  do  look  sick,"  agreed  Fagan,  break 
ing  the  bad  news  gently.  "I  should  say  they 
look  mighty  sick,  Dugan.  If  they  looked 
anny  sicker,  I  would  be  afther  lookin'  for  a 
place  t'  bury  thim  in.  An'  I  am  lookin'  for 
th'  place  now." 

As  the  truth  dawned  on  the  mind  of  the 
big  mayor,  he  lost  his  firm  look  and  sank 
into  a  chair.  This  was  the  last  brick  pulled 
from  under  his  structure  of  hopes.  His  head 
sank  upon  his  breast  and  for  many  minutes  he 
was  silent,  while  his  aides  stood  abashed  and  ill 
at  ease.  At  last  he  raised  his  head  and  stared 
at  Toole,  more  in  sorrow  than  in  resentfulness. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "Mike  Toole!  What 
in  th'  worrld  made  ye  soak  thim  dongolas?" 


THE   WATER   GOATS  41 

"Dugan,"  pleaded  Toole,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  big  mayor's  arm.  "Dugan,  old  man, 
don't  look  at  me  that  way.  There  was  naw- 
thin'  else  t'  do  but  soak  thim  dongolas. 
Many's  th'  time  I  have  seen  me  old  father 
soakin'  th'  young  dongolas  t'  limber  thim  up 
for  swimmin'.  'If  iver  ye  have  to  do  with 
dongolas,  Mike,'  he  used  t'  say  t'  me,  'soak 
thim  well  firrst.'  So  I  soaked  thim,  an'  'tis 
none  of  me  fault,  nor  Pagan's  either,  that  they 
soaked  full  o'  wather.  First-class  dongolas 
is  wather-proof,  as  iveryone  knows,  Dugan, 
an'  how  was  we  t'  know  thim  two  was  not  ? 
How  was  me  an'  Fagan  t'  know  their  skins 
would  soak  in  wather  like  a  pillow  case? 
Small  blame  to  us,  Dugan." 

The  big  mayor  took  his  head  between  his 
hands  and  stared  moodily  at  the  floor. 

"Go  awn  away!"  he  said  after  a  while. 
"Ye  have  done  for  me  an'  th'  byes,  Toole. 
Ye  have  soaked  us  out  of  office,  wan  an'  all 
of  us.  I  want  t'  be  alone.  It  is  all  over  with 
us.  Go  awn  away!" 


42  THE   WATER  GOATS 

Toole  and  the  Keeper  of  the  Water  Goats 
stole  silently  from  the  room  and  out  into  the 
street.  Fagan  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"How  was  we  t'  know  thim  dongolas  would 
soak  in  wather  that  way,  Toole?"  he  said 
defensively.  "How  was  we  t'  know  they 
was  not  th'  wather- proof  kind  of  dongolas?" 

The  little  alderman  from  the  Fourth  Ward 
walked  silently  by  the  Keeper's  side.  His 
head  was  downcast  and  his  hands  were  clasped 
beneath  the  tails  of  his  coat.  Suddenly  he 
looked  Fagan  full  in  the  face. 

"  'Twas  our  fault,  Fagan,"  he  said.  "  'Twas 
all  our  fault.  If  we  didn't  know  thim  don 
golas  was  wather-proof  we  should  have  var-  * 
nished  thim  before  we  put  thim  in  th'  lake  t' 
soak.  I  don't  blame  you,  Fagan,  for  ye  did 
not  know  anny  better,  but  I  blame  mesilf . 
For  I  call  t'  mind  now  that  me  father  always 
varnished  th'  dongolas  before  he  soaked  thim 
overnight.  'Take  no  chances,  Mike,5  he 
used  t'  say  t'  me,  'always  varnish  thim  firrst. 
Some  of  thim  is  rubbery  an'  will  not  soak 


THE   WATER   GOATS  43 

up  wather,  but  some  is  spongy,  an'  'tis  best 
t'  varnish  one  an'  all  of  thim.' ' 

"Think  of  that  now!"  exclaimed  Fagan 
with  admiration.  "Sure,  but  this  natural 
history  is  a  wonderful  science,  Toole!  To 
think  that  thim  animals  was  th'  spongy- 
hided  dongola  water  goats  of  foreign  lands, 
an'  used  t'  bein'  varnished  before  each  an' 
every  bath!  An'  t'  me  they  looked  no  dif 
ferent  from  th'  goats  of  me  byehood!  I  was 
never  cut  out  for  a  goat  keeper,  Mike.  An' 
me  job  on  th'  dump-cart  is  gone,  too.  'Twill 
be  hard  times  for  Fagan." 

"'Twill  be  hard  times  for  Toole,  too," 
said /the  little  alderman,  and  they  walked  on 
without  speaking  until  Fagan  reached  his 
jgate. 

"  Well,  anny  how,"  he  said  with  cheerful 
philosophy,  "  'tis  better  t'  be  us  than  to  be 
.thim  dongola  water  goats  —  dead  or  alive. 
'Tis  not  too  often  I  take  a  bath,  Mike,  but  if 
I  was  wan  of  thim  spongy-hided  dongolas  an' 
had  t'  be  varnished  each  time  I  got  in  me 


44  THE   WATER  GOATS 

bath  tub,  I  would  stop  bathin'  for  good  an' 
all." 

He  looked  toward  the  house. 

"I'll  not  worry,"  he  said.  "Maggie  will 
be  sad  t'  hear  th'  job  is  gone,  but  she  would 
have  took  it  harder  t'  know  her  Tim  was 
wastin'  his  time  varnishin'  th'  slab  side  of  a 
spongy  goat." 


MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 


II 


MR.    BILLINGS'S   POCKETS 


On  the  sixteenth  of  June  Mr.  Rollin  Billings 
entered  his  home  at  Westcote  very  much  later 
than  usual,  and  stealing  upstairs,  like  a  thief 
in  the  night,  he  undressed  and  dropped  into 
bed.  In  two  minutes  he  was  asleep,  and  it 
was  no  wonder,  for  by  that  time  it  was  five 
minutes  after  three  in  the  morning,  and  Mr. 
Billings's  usual  bedtime  was  ten  o'clock. 
Even  when  he  was  delayed  at  his  office  he 
made  it  an  invariable  rule  to  catch  the  nine 
o'clock  train  home. 

When  Mrs.  Billings  awoke  the  next  —  or, 
rather,  that  same  —  morning,  she  gazed  a 
minute  at  the  thin,  innocent  face  of  her 
husband,  and  was  in  the  satisfied  frame  of 
mind  that  takes  an  unexpected  train  delay 
as  a  legitimate  excuse,  when  she  happened  to 

47 


48       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

cast  her  eyes  upon  Mr.  Billings's  coat,  which 
was  thrown  carelessly  over  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
Protruding  from  one  of  the  side  pockets  was 
a  patent  nursing-bottle,  half  full  of  milk. 
Instantly  Mrs.  Billings  was  out  of  bed  and 
searching  Mr.  Billings's  other  pockets.  To 
her  horror  her  search  was  fruitful. 

In  a  vest  pocket  she  found  three  false  curls, 
or  puffs  of  hair,  such  as  ladies  are  wearing 
to-day  to  increase  the  abundance  of  their  own, 
and  these  curls  were  of  a  rich  brownish  red. 
Finally,  when  she  dived  into  his  trousers 
pocket,  she  found  twelve  acorns  carefully 
wrapped  in  a  lady's  handkerchief,  with  the 
initials  "T.  M.  C."  embroidered  in  one  corner. 

All  these  Mrs.  Billings  hid  carefully  in  her 
upper  bureau  drawer  and  proceeded  to  dress. 
When  at  length  she  awakened  Mr.  Billings,  he 
yawned,  stretched,  and  then,  realizing  that 
getting-up  time  had  arrived,  hopped  briskly 
out  of  bed. 

"You  got  in  late  last  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Billings  pleasantly. 


MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS       49 

If  she  had  expected  Mr.  Billings  to  cringe 
and  cower  she  was  mistaken.  He  continued 
to  dress,  quite  in  his  usual  manner,  as  if  he 
had  a  clear  conscience. 

"Indeed  I  did,  Mary,"  he  said.  "It  was 
three  when  I  entered  the  house,  for  the  clock 
was  just  striking." 

"Something  must  have  delayed  you,"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Billings. 

"Otherwise,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "I 
should  have  been  home  much  sooner." 

"Probably,"  said  Mrs.  Billings,  suddenly 
assuming  her  most  sarcastic  tone,  as  she 
reached  into  her  bureau  drawer  and  drew 
out  the  patent  nursing-bottle,  "this  had 
something  to  do  with  your  being  delayed!" 

Mr.  Billings  looked  at  the  nursing-bottle, 
and  then  he  drew  out  his  watch  and  looked  at 
that. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "you  are  right.  It 
did.  But  I  now  have  just  time  to  gulp  down 
my  coffee  and  catch  my  train.  To-night, 
when  I  return  from  town,  I  will  tell  you  the 


50       MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS 

most  remarkable  story  of  that  nursing-bottle, 
and  how  it  happened  to  be  in  my  pocket,  and 
in  the  mean  time  I  beg  you  —  I  most  sincerely 
beg  you  —  to  feel  no  uneasiness." 

With  this  he  hurried  out  of  the  room,  and 
a  few  moments  later  his  wife  saw  him  running 
for  his  train. 

All  day  Mrs.  Billings  was  prey  to  the  most 
disturbing  thoughts,  and  as  soon  as  dinner 
was  finished  that  evening  she  led  the  way  into 
the  library. 

"Now,  Rollin?"  she  said,  and  without 
hesitation  Mr.  Billings  began. 

I.      THE   PATENT   NURSING-BOTTLE 

You  have  (he  said),  I  know,  met  Lemuel, 
the  coloured  elevator  boy  in  our  office  build 
ing,  and  you  know  what  a  pleasant,  accom 
modating  lad  he  is.  He  is  the  sort  of  boy 
for  whom  one  would  gladly  do  a  favour,  for 
he  is  always  so  willing  to  do  favours  for 
others,  but  I  was  thinking  nothing  of  this 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       51 

when  I  stepped  from  my  office  at  exactly  five 
o'clock  yesterday  evening.  I  was  thinking 
of  nothing  but  getting  home  to  dinner  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  was  just  stepping  into 
the  elevator  when  Lemuel  laid  his  hand  gently 
on  my  arm. 

"I  beg  yo'  pahdon,  Mistah  Billings,"  he 
said  politely,  "  but  would  yo'  do  me  a  favour  ?" 

"Certainly,  Lemuel,"  I  said;  "how  much 
can  I  lend  you?" 

"'Tain't  that,  sah,"  he  said.  "I  wish  t' 
have  a  word  or  two  in  private  with  yo'. 
Would  yo'  mind  steppin'  back  into  yo'  office 
until  I  git  these  folks  out  of  th'  buildin',  so's 
I  can  speak  to  yo'  ?" 

I  knew  I  had  still  half  an  hour  before  my 
six-two  train,  and  I  was  not  unwilling  to  do 
Lemuel  a  favour,  so  I  went  back  to  my  office 
as  he  desired,  and  waited  there  until  he 
appeared,  which  was  not  until  he  had  taken 
all  the  tenants  down  in  his  elevator.  Then 
he  opened  the  door  and  came  in.  With  him 
was  the  young  man  I  had  often  seen  in  the 


52       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

office  next  to  mine,  as  I  passed,  and  a  young 
woman  on  whom  I  had  never  set  my  eyes 
before.  No  sooner  had  they  opened  the 
door  than  the  young  man  began  to  speak, 
and  Lemuel  stood  unobtrusively  to  one  side. 

"Mr.  Billings,"  said  the  young  man,  "you 
may  think  it  strange  that  I  should  come  to  you 
in  this  way  when  you  and  I  are  hardly  acquaint 
ances,  but  I  have  often  observed  you  passing 
my  door,  and  have  noted  your  kind-looking 
face,  and  the  moment  I  found  this  trouble 
upon  me  I  instantly  thought  of  you  as  the  one 
man  who  would  be  likely  to  help  me  out  of  my 
difficulty."  .  .  •  r  i  ,.  ;-- 

While  he  said  this  I  Jiad'time  to  study  his 
face,  and  also  to  glance  at  the  young  woman, 
and  I  saw  that  he  must,  indeed,  be  in  great 
trouble.  I  also  saw  that  the  young  woman 
was  pretty  and  modest  and  that  she,  also,  was 
in  great  distress.  I  at  once  agreed  to  help 
him,  provided  I  should  not  be  made  to  miss 
the  six-thirty  train,  for  I  saw  I  was  already  too 
late  for  the  six-two. 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       53 

"Good!"  he  cried.  "For  several  years 
Madge  —  who  is  this  young  lady  —  and  I 
have  been  in  love,  and  we  wish  to  be  married 
this  evening,  but  her  father  and  my  father  are 
waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  elevator  at  this 
minute,  and  they  have  been  waiting  there  all 
day.  There  is  no  other  way  for  us  to  leave 
the  building,  for  the  foot  of  the  stairs  is  also 
the  foot  of  the  elevator,  and,  in  fact,  when  I 
last  peeped,  Madge's  father  was  sitting  on 
the  bottom  step.  It  is  now  exactly  fifteen 
minutes  of  six,  and  at  six  o'clock  they  mean 
to  come  up  and  tear  Madge  and  me  away, 
and  have  us  married." 

"To "I  began. 

"To  each  other,"  said  the  young  man  with 
emotion. 

"But  I  thought  that  was  what  you  wanted  ?  " 
I  exclaimed. 

"Not  at  all!  Not  at  all!"  said  the  young 
man,  and  the  young  woman  added  her  voice 
in  protest,  too.  "I  am  the  head  of  the  Sta 
tistical  Department  of  the  Society  for  the  Ob- 


54       MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

taining  of  a  Uniform  National  Divorce  Law, 
and  the  work  in  that  department  has  convinced 
me  beyond  a  doubt  that  forced  marriages 
always  end  unhappily.  In  eighty-seven  thou 
sand  six  hundred  and  four  cases  of  forced 
marriages  that  I  have  tabulated  I  have  found 
that  eighty-seven  thousand  six  hundred  and 
three  have  been  unhappy.  In  the  face  of  such 
statistics  Madge  and  I  dare  not  allow  ourselves 
to  be  married  against  our  wills.  We  insist 
on  marrying  voluntarily." 

"  That  could  be  easily  arranged,"  I  ventured 
to  say,  "in  view  of  the  fact  that  both  your 
fathers  wish  you  to  be  married." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Madge,  with  more  inde 
pendence  than  I  had  thought  her  capable  of; 
"because  my  father  and  Henry's  father  are 
gentlemen  of  the  old  school.  I  would  not 
say  anything  against  either  father,  for  in 
ordinary  affairs  they  are  two  most  suave  and 
charming  old  gentlemen,  but  in  this  they  hold  to 
the  old-school  idea  that  children  should  allow 
their  parents  to  select  their  life-partners,  and 


MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS       55 

they  insist  that  Henry  and  I  allow  ourselves 
to  be  forced  to  marry  each  other.  And  that, 
in  spite  of  the  statistics  Henry  has  shown  them. 
Our  whole  happiness  depends  on  our  getting 
out  of  this  building  before  they  can  come  up 
and  get  us.  That  is  why  we  appeal  to  you." 
"If  you  still  hesitate,  after  what  Madge 
has  said,"  said  Henry,  pulling  a  large  roll  of 
paper  out  of  his  pocket,  "here  are  the  statis 
tics." 

Very  well,"  I  said,  "I  will  help  you,  if 
II  can  do  so  and  not  miss  the  six-thirty  train. 
What  is  your  plan?" 

"It   is   very   simple,"    said   Henry.     "Our 
?athers  are  both  quite  near-sighted,  and  as 
ix   o'clock   draws   near   they   will   naturally 
jbecome    greatly    excited    and    nervous,    and, 
Lerefore,    less    observant    of    small    things, 
have  brought  with  me  some  burnt  cork  with 
rhich  I   will   blacken   my  face,   and  I   will 
Lange  clothes  with  Lemuel,  and,  in  the  one 
Loment  necessary  to  escape,  my  father  will 
lot    recognize    me.     Lemuel,    on    the    other 


56       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

hand,  will  whiten  his  face  with  some  powder 
that  Madge  has  brought,  and  will  wear  my 
clothes,  and  in  the  excitement  my  father  will 
seize  him  instead  of  me." 

"Excellent,"  I  said,  "but  what  part  do  I 
play  in  this?" 

"This  part,"  said  Henry,  "you  will  wear, 
over  your  street  clothes,  a  gown  that  Madge 
has  brought  in  her  suit-case  and  a  hat  that  she 
has  also  brought,  both  of  which  her  father 
will  easily  recognize,  while  Madge  will  redden 
her  face  with  rouge,  muss  her  hair,  don  a  torn, 
calico  dress,  and  with  a  scrub-rag  and  a 
mop  in  her  hands  easily  pass  for  a  scrub 


woman/' 


"And  then?"  I  asked. 

"Then  you  and  Lemuel  will  steal  cautiously 
down  the  stairs,  as  if  you  were  Madge  and  I 
seeking  to  escape,  while  Madge  and  I,  as 
Lemuel  and  the  scrub- woman,  will  go  down 
by  the  elevator.  My  father  and  Madge's 
father  will  seize  you  and  Lemuel " 

"And  I  shall  appear  like  a  fool  when  they 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       57 

discover  I  am  a  respectable  business  man 
rigged  up  in  woman's  clothes,"  I  said. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Madge,  "for  Henry  and  I 
have  thought  of  that.  You  must  play  your 
part  until  you  see  that  Henry  and  I  have  es 
caped  from  the  elevator  and  have  left  the 
building,  and  that  is  all.  I  have  had  the 
forethought  to  prepare  an  alibi  for  you.  As 
soon  as  you  see  that  Henry  and  I  are  safe 
outside  the  building,  you  must  become  very 
indignant,  and  insist  that  you  are  a  respectable 
married  woman,  and  in  proof  you  must  hand 
my  father  the  contents  of  this  package.  He 
will  be  convinced  immediately  and  let  you  go, 
and  then  Lemuel  can  run  you  up  to  your  office 
and  you  can  take  off  my  dress  and  hat  and 
catch  the  six-thirty  train  without  trouble." 
She  then  handed  me  a  small  parcel,  which  I 
i  slipped  into  my  coat  pocket. 

When  this  had  been  agreed  upon  she  and 

i  Henry  left  the  office  and  I  took  the  hat  and 

iress  from  the  suit-case  and  put  them  on,  while 

i  Lemuel  put  on  Henry's  suit  and  whitened  his 


58       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

face.  This  took  but  a  few  minutes,  and  we 
went  into  the  hall  and  found  Henry  and 
Madge  already  waiting  for  us.  Henry  was 
blackened  into  a  good  likeness  of  Lemuel, 
and  Madge  was  quite  a  mussy  scrub- woman. 
They  immediately  entered  the  elevator  and 
began  to  descend  slowly,  while  Lemuel  and  I 
crept  down  the  stairs. 

Lemuel  and  I  kept  as  nearly  as  possible 
opposite  the  elevator,  so  that  we  might  arrive 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  b»t  a  moment  before 
Madge  and  Henry,  and  we  could  hear  the  two 
fathers  shuffling  on  the  street  floor,  when 
suddenly,  as  we  reached  the  third  floor,  we 
heard  a  whisper  from  Henry  in  the  elevator. 
The  elevator  had  stuck  fast  between  the  third 
and  fourth  floors.  As  with  one  mind,  Lemuel 
and  I  seated  ourselves  on  a  step  and  waited 
until  Henry  should  get  the  elevator  run 
ning  again  and  could  proceed  to  the  street 
floor. 

For  a  while  we  could  hear  no  noise  but  the 
grating  of  metal  on  metal  as  Henry  worked 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       59 

with  the  starting  lever  of  the  elevator,  and  then 
we  heard  the  two  voices  of  the  fathers. 

"It  is  a  ruse,"  said  one  father.  "They 
are  pretending  the  elevator  is  stuck,  and  wnen 
we  grow  impatient  and  start  up  the  stairs 
they  will  come  down  with  a  rush  and  escape 


us." 


"But  we  are  not  so  silly  as  that,"  said  the 
other  father.  "  We  will  stay  right  here  and 
wait  until  they  come  down." 

At  that  Lemuel  ai^d  I  settled  ourselves  more 
comfortably,  for  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 
I  cursed  inwardly  as  I  felt  the  minutes  slip  by 
and  knew  that  half-past  six  had  come  and  gone, 
but  I  was  sure  you  would  not  like  to  have  me 
desert  those  two  poor  lovers  who  were  fighting 
:o  ward  off  the  statistics,  so  I  sat  still  and 
silent.  So  did  Lemuel. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  sat  there,  for  it 
;vas  already  dark  in  the  narrow  stairway,  but 
t  must  have  been  a  long  time.  I  drowsed  off, 
ind  I  was  finally  awakened  by  Lemuel  tugging 
it  my  sleeve,  and  I  knew  that  Henry  had 


60       MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

managed  to  start  the  elevator  again.  Lemuel 
and  I  hastened  our  steps,  and  just  as  the 
elevator  was  coming  into  sight  below  the 
second  floor  we  were  seen  by  the  two  fathers. 
For  an  instant  they  hesitated,  and  then  they 
seized  us.  At  the  same  time  the  elevator  door 
opened  and  Henry  and  Madge  came  out, 
and  the  two  fathers  hardly  glanced  at  them  as 
they  went  out  of  the  door  into  the  street. 

As  soon  as  I  saw  that  they  were  safe  I 
feigned  great  indignation,  and  so  did  Lemuel. 

"Unhand  me,  sir!"  I  cried.  "Who  do  you! 
think  I  am  ?  I  am  a  respectable  married  lady, 
leaving  the  building  with  her  husband.  Un 
hand  me!" 

Instead  of  doing  so,  however,  the  fatherl 
that  had  me  by  the  arm  drew  me  nearer  to 
the  hall  light.  As  he  did  so  he  stared  closely 
at  my  face. 

"Morgan,"  he  said  to  the  other  father, 
"this  is  not  my  daughter.  My  daughter  did 
not  have  a  moustache." 

"Indeed,  I  am  not  your  daughter,"  I  said; 


MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS       61 

"I  am  a  respectable  married  lady,  and  here  is 
the  proof." 

With  that  I  reached  for  the  package  Madge 
had  given  me,  but  it  was  in  my  coat-pocket, 
underneath  the  dress  I  had  on,  and  it  was 
only  with  great  difficulty  and  by  raising  one 
side  of  the  skirt  that  I  was  able  to  get  it.  I 
unwrapped  it  and  showed  it  to  the  father  that 
had  me  by  the  arm.  It  was  the  patent  nursing- 
bottle. 

When  Mr.  Billings  had  finished  his  relation 
his  wife  sat  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Then 
she  said: 

"And  he  let  you  go?" 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Billings;  "he 
could  not  hold  me  after  such  proof  as  that,  and 
Lemuel  ran  me  up  to  my  office,  where  I 
changed  my  hat  and  took  off  the  dress.  I 
knew  it  was  late,  and  I  did  not  know  what 
train  I  could  catch,  but  I  made  haste,  and,  on 
the  way  down  in  the  elevator,  I  felt  in  my 
pocket  to  see  if  I  had  my  commutation  ticket, 


(5*       MK.    mUJNUS'S  POCKETS 

when  my  hand  struck  the  patent  nursing- bottle. 
My  tirst  impulse  was  to  drop  it  in  the  car, 
but  on  second  thought  I  decided  to  keep  it, 
for  I  knew  that  when  you  saw  it  and  heard  the 
story  you  would  understand  perfectly  why  I 
was  detained  last  night." 

"Yes:"  said  Mrs.  Billings  questioningly. 
"But,  my  dear,  all  that  does  not  account  for 
these." 

As  she  said  that  she  drew  from  her  work- 
basket  the  three  auburn-red  curls. 

"Oh,  those!"  said  Mr.  Billings,  after  a 
momentary  hesitation.  "I  was  about  to  tell 

V 

you  about  those." 

"Do  so!"  said  Mrs.  Billings  coldly.  "I 
am  listening." 

II.  THE  THREE  AUBURN-RED  CURLS 

When  I  went  down  in  the  elevator  (said  Mr. 
Billings)  with  the  nursing-bottle  in  my  pocket, 
I  had  no  thought  but  to  get  to  the  train  as 
soon  as  possible,  for  I  saw  by  the  clock  in  my 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       63 

office  that  I  had  just  time  to  catch  the  eleven- 
nine  if  I  should  not  be  delayed.  Therefore, 
as  soon  as  I  was  outside  the  building  I  started 
to  run,  but  when  I  reached  the  corner  and 
was  just  about  to  step  on  a  passing  street-car 
a  hand  was  laid  on  my  arm,  and  I  turned  to 
see  who  was  seeking  to  detain  me.  It  was 
a  woman  in  the  most  pitiable  rags,  and  on 
her  arm  she  carried  a  baby  so  thin  and  pale 
that  I  could  scarcely  believe  it  lived. 

One  glance  at  the  child  showed  me  that  it 
was  on  the  verge  of  death  by  starvation,  and 
this  was  confirmed  by  the  moans  of  the  mother, 
who  begged  me  for  humanity's  sake  to  give 
her  money  with  which  to  provide  food  for 
the  child,  even  though  I  let  her,  herself,  starve. 
You  know,  my  dear,  you  never  allow  me  to 
give  money  to  street  beggars,  and  I  remem 
bered  this,  but  at  the  same  time  I  remembered 
the  patent  nursing-bottle  I  still  carried  in  my 
pocket. 

Without  hesitation  I  drew  the  patent  nurs 
ing-bottle  from  my  pocket  and  told  the  mother 


64       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

to  allow  the  infant  to  have  a  sufficient  quantity 
of  milk  it  contained  to  sustain  the  child's  life 
until  she  could  procure  other  alms  or  other 
aid.  With  a  cry  of  joy  the  mother  took  the 
nursing-bottle  and  pressed  it  to  the  poor 
baby's  lips,  and  it  was  with  great  pleasure 
I  saw  the  rosy  colour  return  to  the  child's 
cheeks.  The  sadness  of  despair  that  had 
shadowed  the  mother's  face  also  fled,  and  I 
could  see  that  already  she  was  looking  on 
life  with  a  more  optimistic  view. 

I  verily  believe  the  child  could  have  absorbed 
the  entire  contents  of  the  bottle,  but  I  had 
impressed  upon  the  mother  that  she  was  to 
give  the  child  only  sufficient  to  sustain  life, 
not  to  suffice  it  until  it  was  grown  to  manhood 
or  womanhood,  and  when  the  bottle  was 
half-emptied  the  mother  returned  it  to  me. 
How  much  time  all  this  occupied  I  do  not 
know,  but  the  child  took  the  milk  with  extreme 
slowness.  I  may  say  that  it  took  the  milk 
drop  by  drop.  A  great  deal  of  time  must 
have  elapsed. 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       65 

But  when  the  mother  had  returned  the 
patent  nursing-bottle  to  me  and  saw  how 
impatient  I  was  to  be  gone,  she  still  retained 
her  hold  upon  my  arm. 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "you  have  undoubtedly 
saved  the  life  of  my  child,  and  I  only  regret 
that  I  cannot  repay  you  for  all  it  means  to  me. 
But  I  cannot.  Sjtay!"  she  cried,  when  I  was 
about  to  pull  my  arm  away.  "Has  your  wife 
auburn-red  hair?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "she  has  not.  Her  hair  is 
a  most  beautiful  black." 

"No  matter,"  said  the  poor  woman,  putting 
her  hand  to  her  head.  "Some  day  she  may 
wish  to  change  the  colour  of  her  hair  to  auburn- 
^red,  which  is  easily  done  with  a  little  bleach 
and  a  little  dye,  and  should  she  do  so  these 
ioaay  come  handy;"  and  with  that  she  slipped 
something  soft  and  fluffy  into  my  hand  and 
3ed  into  the  night.  When  I  looked,  I  saw  in 
j.ny  hand  the  very  curls  you  hold  there.  My 
:irst  impulse  was  to  drop  them  in  the  street, 
3ut  I  remembered  that  the  poor  woman  had 


66       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

not  given  them  to  me,  but  to  you,  and  that  it 
was  my  duty  to  bring  them  home  to  you,  so 
I  slipped  them  into  my  pocket. 

When  Mr.  Billings  had  ended  this  recital 
of  what  had  happened  to  him  his  wife  said: 

"Huh!" 

At  the  same  time  she  tossed  the  curls  into 
the  grate,  where  they  shrivelled  up,  burst  into 
blue  smoke,  and  shortly  disappeared  in  ashes. 

"That  is  a  very  likely  story,"  she  said,  "but 
it  does  not  explain  how  this  came  to  be  in 
your  pocket." 

Saying  this  she  drew  from  her  basket  the 
handkerchief  and  handed  it  to  Mr.  Billings. 

"Hah!"  he  exclaimed.  For  a  moment  he 
turned  the  rolled-up  handkerchief  over  and 
over,  and  then  he  cautiously  opened  it.  At 
the  sight  of  the  twelve  acorns  he  seemed 
somewhat  surprised,  and  when  the  initials 
"T.  M.  C."  on  the  corner  of  the  handkerchief 
caught  his  eye  he  blushed. 


MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS       67 

"You  are  blushing  —  you  are  disturbed," 
said  Mrs.  Billings  severely. 

"I  am,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  suddenly  recover 
ing  himself;  "and  no  wonder." 

"And  no  wonder,  indeed!"  said  Mrs  Bil 
lings.  "Perhaps,  then,  you  can  tell  me  how 
those  acorns  and  that  handkerchief  came  to 
be  in  your  pocket." 

"I  can,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "and  I  will." 

"You  had  better,"  said  Mrs.  Billings. 


III.      THE    TWELVE  ACORNS   AND    THE    LADY?S 
HANDKERCHIEF 


You  may  have  noticed,  my  dear  (said  Mr. 
Billings),  that  the  initials  on  that  handkerchief 
are  "T.  M.  C.,"  and  I  wish  you  to  keep  that 
in  mind,  for  it  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
this  story.  Had  they  been  anything  else  that 
handkerchief  would  not  have  found  its  way 
into  my  pocket ;  and  when  you  see  how  those 
acorns  and  that  handkerchief,  and  the  half- 
filled  nursing-bottle  and  the  auburn-red  curls 


68       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

all  combined  to  keep  me  out  of  r  y  home 
until  the  unearthly  hour  of  three  A.  M.,  you 
will  forget  the  unjust  suspicions  which  I  too 
sadly  fear  you  now  hold  against  me,  and  you 
will  admit  that  a  half-filled  patent  nursing- 
bottle,  a  trio  of  curls,  a  lady's  handkerchief 
and  twelve  acorns  were  the  most  natural 
things  in  the  world  to  find  in  my  pockets. 

When  I  had  left  the  poor  woman  with  her 
no-longer-starving  baby  I  hurriedly  glanced 
into  a  store  window,  and  by  the  clock  there 
saw  it  was  twenty  minutes  of  one  and  that  I 
had  exactly  time  to  catch  the  one  o'clock 
train,  which  is  the  last  train  that  runs  to  West- 
cote.  I  glanced  up  and  down  the  street,  but 
not  a  car  was  in  sight,  and  I  knew  I  could  not 
afford  to  wait  long  if  I  wished  to  catch  that 
train.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and 
that  was  to  take  a  cab,  and,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  at  that  moment  an  automobile  cab 
came  rapidly  around  the  corner.  I  raised 
my  voice  and  my  arm,  and  the  driver  saw  or 
heard  me,  for  he  made  a  quick  turn  in  the 


MR.   BILLINGS'S   POCKETS       69 

street  aud  drew  up  at  the  curb  beside  me.     I 
ft  r 

hastily  gave  him  the  directions,  jumped  in  and 
slammed  the  door  shut,  and  the  auto-cab 
immediately  started  forward  at  what  seemed 
to  me  unsafe  speed. 

We  had  not  gone  far  when  something  in 
the  fore  part  of  the  automobile  began  to  thump 
in  a  most  alarming  manner,  and  the  driver 
slackened  his  speed,  drew  up  to  the  curb  and 
stopped.  He  opened  the  door  and  put  his 
head  in. 

"Something's  gone  wrong,"  he  said,  "but 
don't  you  worry.  I'll  have  it  fixed  in  no  time, 
and  then  I  can  put  on  more  speed  and  I'll 
get  you  there  in  just  the  same  time  as  if  nothing 
had  happened." 

When  he  said  this  I  was  perfectly  satisfied, 
for  he  was  a  nice-looking  man,  and  I  lay  back, 
for  I  was  quite  tired  out,  it  was  so  long  past 
my  usual  bedtime;  and  the  driver  went  to 
work,  doing  things  I  could  not  understand  to 
the  fore  part  of  the  automobile,  where  the 
machinery  is.  I  remember  thinking  that  the 


70       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

cushions  of  this  automobile  were  unusually 
soft,  and  then  I  must  have  dozed  off,  and 
when  I  opened  my  eyes  I  did  not  know  how 
much  time  had  elapsed,  but  the  driver  was 
still  at  work  and  I  could  hear  him  swearing. 
He  seemed  to  be  having  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
so  I  got  out  of  the  automobile,  intending  to 
tell  him  that  perhaps  I  had  better  try  to  get  a 
car,  after  all.  But  his  actions  when  he  saw 
me  were  most  unexpected.  He  waved  the 
wrench  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  ordered  me 
to  get  back  into  the  automobile,  and  I  did. 
I  supposed  he  was  afraid  he  would  lose  his 
fare  and  tip,  but  in  a  few  minutes  he  opened 
the  door  again  and  spoke  to  me. 

"Now,  sport,"  he  said,  "there  ain't  no  use 
thinkin'  about  gettin'  that  train,  because  it's 
gone,  and  I  may  as  well  say  now  that  you've 
got  to  come  with  me,  unless  you  want  me  to 
smash  your  head  in.  The  fact  is,  this  ain't 
no  public  automobile,  and  I  hadn't  no  right 
to  take  you  for  a  passenger.  This  automobile 
belongs  to  a  lady  and  I'm  her  hired  chauffeur, 


MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       71 

and  she's  at  a  bridge-whist  party  in  a  house 
on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  I'm  supposed  to  be 
waiting  outside  that  house.  One-fifteen 
o'clock  was  the  time  she  said  she  would  be 
out.  But  I  thought  maybe  I  might  make  a 
dollar  or  two  for  myself  instead  of  waiting 
there  all  that  time,  and  she  would  never  know 
it.  And  now  it  is  nearly  two  o'clock,  and  if 
I  go  back  alone  she  will  be  raving  mad,  and 
I'll  get  my  discharge  and  no  references,  and 
my  poor  wife  and  six  children  will  have  to 
starve.  So  you  wrill  have  to  go  with  me  and 
explain  how  it  was  that  I  wasn't  there  at  one- 
fifteen  o'clock." 

"  My  friend,"  I  said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but 
I  do  not  see  how  it  would  help  you,  should 
I  refuse  to  go  and  you  should,  as  you  say, 
smash  my  head  in." 

"Don't  you  worry  none  about  that,"  he 
said.  "If  I  smashed  your  head  in,  as  I  could 
do  easy  enough  with  this  wrench,  I'd  take 
what  was  left  of  you  up  some  dark  street, 
and  lay  you  on  the  pavement  and  run  the 


72       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

* 

machine  across  you  once  or  twice,  and  then 
take  you  to  a  hospital,  and  that  would  be 
excuse  enough.  You'd  be  another  'Killed 
by  an  Automobile,'  and  I'd  be  the  hero 
that  picked  you  up  and  took  you  to  the 
hospital." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "under  the  circumstances 
I  shall  go  with  you,  not  because  you  threaten 
me,  but  because  your  poor  wife  and  six 
children  are  threatened  with  starvation." 

"Good!"  he  said.  "And  now  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  think  of  what  the  excuse  you  will 
give  my  lady  boss  will  be." 

With  that  he  lay  back  against  the  cushions 
and  waited.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  the  matter 
did  not  concern  him  any  more,  and  that  the 
rest  of  it  lay  with  me. 

"Go  ahead!"  I  said  to  him.  "I  have  no 
idea  what  I  shall  tell  your  mistress,  but  since 
I  have  lost  the  last  train  I  must  try  to  catch 
the  two  o'clock  trolley  car  to  Westcote,  and 
I  do  not  wish  to^  spend  any  more  time  than 
necessary  on  this  business.  Make  all  the 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       73 

haste  possible,  and  as  we  go  I  shall  think  what 
I  will  say  when  we  get  there." 

The  driver  got  out  and  took  his  seat  and 
started  the  car.  I  was  worried,  indeed,  my 
dear.  I  tried  to  think  of  something  plausible 
to  tell  the  young  man's  employer;  something 
that  would  have  an  air  of  self-proof,  when 
suddenly  I  remembered  the  half-filled  nursing- 
bottle  and  the  three  auburn-red  curls.  Why 
should  I  not  tell  the  lady  that  a  poor  mother, 
while  proceeding  down  Fifth  Avenue  from 
her  scrub-woman  job,  had  been  taken  suddenly 
ill,  and  that  I,  being  near,  had  insisted  that 
this  automobile  help  me  convey  the  woman 
to  her  home,  which  we  found,  alas!  to  be  in 
the  farthest  districts  of  Brooklyn?  Then  I 
would  produce  the  three  auburn-red  curls  and 
the  half-filled  nursing-bottle  as  having  been 
left  in  the  automobile  by  the  woman,  and  this 
proof  would  suffice. 

I  had  fully  decided  on  this  when  the  auto 
mobile  stopped  in  front  of  a  large  house  in 
Fifth  Avenue,  and  I  had  time  to  tell  the  driver 


74       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

that  I  had  thought  of  the  proper  thing  to  say, 
but  that  was  all,  for  the  waiting  lady  came 
down  the  steps  in  great  anger,  and  was  about 
to  begin  a  good  scolding,  when  she  noticed  me 
sitting  in  her  automobile. 

If  she  had  been  angry  before  she  was  now 
furious,  and  she  was  the  kind  of  young  woman 
who  can  be  extremely  furious  when  she  tries. 
I  think  nothing  in  the  world  could  have  calmed 
her  had  she  not  caught  sight  of  my  face  by  the 
light  of  two  strong  lamps  on  a  passing  auto 
mobile.  She  saw  in  my  face  what  you  see 
there  now,  my  dear  —  the  benevolent,  fatherly 
face  of  a  settled-down,  trustworthy,  married 
man  of  past  middle  age  —  and  as  if  by  magic 
her  anger  fled  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"Oh,  sir!"  she  cried,  "I  do  not  know  who 
you  are,  nor  how  you  happen  to  be  in  my  car, 
but  at  this  moment  I  am  homeless  and  friend 
less.  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  and  I  need 
advice.  Let  me  get  into  the  car  beside  you  — " 

"Miss,"  I  said,  "I  do  not  like  to  disoblige 
you,  but  I  can  never  allow  myself  to  be  in  an 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       75 

automobile  at  this  time  of  night  with  a  strange 
woman,  unchaperoned." 

These  words  seemed  almost  more  than  she 
could  bear,  and  my  heart  was  full  of  pity, 
but,  just  as  I  was  about  to  spring  from  the 
automobile  and  rush  away,  I  saw  on  the  walk 
the  poor  woman  to  whose  baby  I  had  given 
the  half  of  the  contents  of  the  patent  nursing- 
bottle.  I  called  her  and  made  her  get  into 
the  automobile,  and  then  I  let  the  young 
woman  enter. 

"Now,"  I  said,  "where to?" 

"That,"  she  said,  "is  what  I  do  not  know. 
When  I  left  my  home  this  evening  I  left  it 
forever,  and  I  left  a  note  of  farewell  to  my 
father,  which  he  must  have  received  and  read 
by  this  time,  and  if  I  went  back  he  would  turn 
me  from  the  door  in  anger,  for  he  is  a  gentle 
man  of  the  old  school." 

When  I  heard  these  words  I  was  startled. 

"Can  it  be,"  I  asked,  "that  you  have  a 
brother  Henry  ?" 

"I  have,"  she  admitted;  "Henry  Corwin  is 


76       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

his  name."  This  was  the  name  of  the  young 
man  I  had  helped  that  very  evening  to  marry 
Madge.  I  told  her  to  proceed. 

"My  father,"  she  said,  "has  been  insisting 
that  I  marry  a  man  I  do  not  love,  and  things 
have  come  to  such  a  point  that  I  must  either 
accede  or  take  things  into  my  own  hands. 
I  agreed  to  elope  this  evening  with  the  man 
I  love,  for  he  had  long  wished  me  to  elope 
with  him.  I  was  to  meet  him  outside  his 
house  at  exactly  one-fifteen  o'clock,  and  I 
told  him  that  if  I  was  not  there  promptly  he 
might  know  I  had  changed  my  mind.  When 
the  time  came  for  me  to  hasten  to  him  in  my 
automobile,  which  was  then  to  hurry  us  to  a 
waiting  minister,  my  automobile  was  not  here. 
Unfortunately  I  did  not  know  my  lover's 
address,  for  I  had  left  it  in  the  card  pocket 
in  this  automobile.  I  knew  not  what  to  do. 
As  the  time  passed  and  my  automobile  did 
not  appear  I  knew  that  my  lover  had  decided 
that  I  was  not  coming,  and  had  gone  away 
into  his  house.  Now  I  cannot  go  home, 


MR.  BILLINGS'S  POCKETS  77 
for  I  have  no  home.  I  cannot  so  lower  my 
pride  as  to  ring  the  bell  of  his  house  and  say 
I  wish  to  be  forgiven  and  married  even  yet. 
What  shall  I  do?" 

For  answer  I  felt  in  the  card  pocket  of  the 
automobile  and  drew  out  the  address  of  her 
lover,  and  without  hesitation  I  gave  the  address 
to  the  chauffeur.  In  a  few  minutes  we  were 
there.  Leaving  the  young  woman  in  the  car 
with  the  poor  woman,  I  got  out  and  surveyed 
the  house.  It  was  unpromising.  Evidently 
all  the  family  but  the  young  man  were  away 
for  the  summer,  and  the  doors  and  windows 
were  all  boarded  up.  There  was  not  a  bell 
to  ring.  I  pounded  on  the  boards  that  cov 
ered  the  door,  but  it  was  unavailing.  The 
young  woman  called  to  me  that  the  young 
man  lived  in  the  front  room  of  the  topmost 
floor,  and  could  not  hear  me,  and  I  glanced 
up  and  saw  that  one  window  alone  of  all 
those  in  the  house  was  not  boarded  up. 
Instantly  I  hopped  upon  the  seat  beside  the 
driver  and  said,  "Central  Park." 


78       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

We  dashed  up  Fifth  Avenue  and  into  the 
Park  at  full  speed,  and  when  we  were  what 
I  considered  far  enough  in  I  ordered  him  to 
stop,  and  hurrying  up  a  low  bank  I  began  to 
grope  among  the  leaves  of  last  year  under  the 
trees.  I  was  right.  In  a  few  minutes  I  had 
filled  my  pockets  with  acorns,  was  back  in  the 
car,  and  we  were  hurrying  toward  the  house 
of  the  lover,  when  I  saw  standing  on  a  corner 
a  figure  I  instantly  recognized  as  Lemuel, 
the  elevator  boy,  and  at  the  same  time  I 
remembered  that  Lemuel  spent  his  holidays 
pitching  for  a  ball  nine.  He  was  just  the 
man  I  needed,  and  I  stopped  and  made  him 
get  into  the  car.  In  a  minute  more  we  were 
before  the  house  again,  and  I  handed  Lemuel  a 
fistful  of  acorns.  He  drew  back  and  threw 
them  with  all  his  strength  toward  the  upper 
window. 

My  dear,  will  you  believe  it  ?  Those  acorns 
were  wormy!  They  were  light.  They  would 
not  carry  to  the  window,  but  scattered  like 
bits  of  chips  when  they  had  travelled  but 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       79 

half-way.  I  was  upset,  but  Lemuel  was  not. 
He  ordered  the  chauffeur  to  drive  to  lower 
Sixth  Avenue  with  all  speed,  in  order  that  he 
might  get  a  baseball.  With  this  he  said  he 
could  hit  any  mark,  and  we  had  started  in 
that  direction  when,  passing  a  restaurant  on 
Broadway,  I  saw  emerge  Henry  and  Madge. 

"Better  far,"  I  said  to  myself,  "put  this 
young  woman  in  charge  of  her  brother  and 
his  new  wife  than  leave  her  to  elope  alone," 
and  I  made  the  chauffeur  draw  up  beside 
them.  Hastily  I  explained  the  situation,  and 
where  we  were  going  at  that  moment,  and 
Henry  and  Madge  laughed  in  unison. 

"Madge,"  said  Henry,  "we  had  no  trouble 
making  wormy  acorns  travel  through  the  air, 
had  we?"  And  both  laughed  again.  At 
this  I  made  them  get  into  the  automobile 
and  while  we  returned  to  the  lover's  house 
I  made  them  explain.  It  was  very  simple, 
and  I  had  just  tied  a  dozen  acorns  tightly  in 
my  handkerchief,  making  a  ball  to  throw  at 
the  window,  when  the  poor  woman  with  the 


80       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

baby  noticed  that  the  window  was  partly  open. 
I  asked  Lemuel  if  he  could  throw  straight 
enough  to  throw  the  handkerchief-ball  into 
the  window,  and  he  said  he  could,  and  took 
the  handkerchief,  but  a  brighter  idea  came  to 
me,  and  I  turned  to  the  eloping  young  lady. 

"Let  me  have  your  handkerchief,  if  it  has 
your  initials  on  it,"  I  said;  "for  when  he  sees 
that  fall  into  his  room  he  will  know  you  are 
here.  He  will  not  think  you  are  forward, 
coming  to  him  alone,  for  he  will  know  you 
could  never  have  thrown  the  handkerchief, 
even  if  loaded  with  acorns,  to  such  a  height. 
It  will  be  your  message  to  him." 

At  this,  which  I  do  pride  myself  was  a 
suggestion  worthy  of  myself,  all  were  delighted, 
and  while  I  modestly  tied  twelve  acorns  in  the 
handkerchief  on  which  were  the  initials 
"T.  M.  C.,"  all  the  others  cheered.  Even 
the  woman  from  whom  I  had  received  the 
three  auburn-red  curls  cheered,  and  the  baby 
that  was  half-filled  out  of  the  patent  nursing- 
bottle  crowed  with  joy.  But  the  chauffeur 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       81 

honked  his  honker.  Lemuel  took  the  hand 
kerchief  full  of  acorns  in  his  hand  and  drew 
back  his  famous  left  arm,  when  suddenly 
Theodora  Mitchell  Corwin  —  for  that  was 
the  eloping  young  lady's  name  —  shrieked, 
and  looking  up  we  saw  her  lover  at  the  window. 
He  gave  an  answering  yell  and  disappeared, 
and  Lemuel  let  his  left  arm  fall  and  handed 
me  the  handkerchief-ball. 

In  the  excitement  I  dropped  it  into  my 
pocket,  and  it  was  not  until  I  was  on  the  car 
for  Westcote  that  I  discovered  it,  and  then, 
not  wishing  to  be  any  later  in  getting  home, 
I  did  not  go  back  to  give  it  to  Theodora  Mitch 
ell  Corwin;  in  fact,  I  did  not  know  where  she 
had  eloped  to.  Nor  could  I  give  it  to  Madge 
or  Henry,  for  they  had  gone  on  their  wedding 
journey  as  soon  as  they  saw  Theodora  and  her 
lover  safely  eloped. 

I  had  no  right  to  give  it  to  the  poor  woman 
with  the  baby,  even  if  she  had  not  immediately 
disappeared  into  her  world  of  poverty,  and  it 
certainly  did  not  belong  to  Lemuel,  nor  could 


82       MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS 

I  have  given  it  to  him,  for  he  took  the  ten 
dollars  the  lover  gave  him  and  stayed  out  so 
late  that  he  was  late  to  work  this  morning 
and  was  discharged.  He  said  he  was  going 
back  to  Texas.  So  I  brought  the  hand 
kerchief  and  the  twelve  acorns  home,  know 
ing  you  would  be  interested  in  hearing  their 
story. 

When  Mr.  Billings  had  thus  finished  his 
relation  of  the  happenings  of  his  long  evening, 
Mrs.  Billings  was  thoughtful  for  a  minute. 
Then  she  said: 

"But  Rollin,  when  I  spoke  to  you  of  the 
handkerchief  and  the  twelve  acorns  you 
blushed,  and  said  you  had  reason  to  blush.  I 
see  nothing  in  this  kind  action  you  did  to 
cause  a  blush." 

"I  blushed,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "to  think 
of  the  lie  I  was  going  to  tell  Theodora  Merrill 
Corwin " 

"  I  thought  you  said  her  name  was  Theodora 
Mitchell  Corwin,"  said  Mrs.  Billings. 


MR.   BILLINGS'S  POCKETS       83 

"  Mitchell  or  Merill,"  said  Mr.  Billings.  "  I 
cannot  remember  exactly  which." 

For  several  minutes  Mrs.  Billings  was 
>ilent.  Occasionally  she  would  open  her 
nouth  as  if  to  ask  a  question,  but  each  time 
;he  closed  it  again  without  speaking.  Mr. 
Billings  sat  regarding  his  wife  with  what,  in  a 
nan  of  less  clear  conscience,  might  be  called 
inxiety.  At  length  Mrs.  Billings  put  her 
iewing  into  her  sewing-basket  and  arose. 

"Rollin,"  she  said,  "I  have  enjoyed  hearing 
~ou  tell  your  experiences  greatly.  I  can  say 
)ut  one  thing:  Never  in  your  life  have  you 
leceived  me.  And  you  have  not  deceived  me 
low." 

For  half  an  hour  after  this  Mr.  Billings  sat 
done,  thinking. 


)UR  FIRST  BURGLAR 


Ill 

OUR    FIRST   BURGLAR 

When  our  new  suburban  house  was  com 
pleted  I  took  Sarah  out  to  see  it,  and  she 
liked  it  all  but  the  stairs. 

"  Edgar,"  she  said,  when  she  had  ascended 
to  the  second  floor,  "I  don't  know  whether 
it  is  imagination  or  not,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  these  stairs  are  funny,  some  way.  I 
can't  understand  it.  They  are  not  a  long 
flight,  and  they  are  not  unusually  steep,  but 
they  seem  to  be  unusually  wearying.  I 
never  knew  a  short  flight  to  tire  me  so,  and 
I  have  climbed  many  flights  in  the  six  years 
we  have  lived  in  flats." 

"  Perhaps,  Sarah,"  I  said,  with  mild  dis 
simulation,  "you  are  unusually  tired  to-day." 

The  fact  was  that  I  had  planned  those 
stairs  myself,  and  for  a  particular  reason  I 

87 


88  OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

had  made  the  rise  of  each  step  three  inches 
more  than  the  customary  height,  and  in  this 
way  I  had  saved  two  steps.  I  had  also  made 
the  tread  of  the  steps  unusually  narrow;  and 
the  reason  was  that  I  had  found,  from  long 
experience,  that  stair  carpet  wears  first  on  the 
tread  of  the  steps,  where  the  foot  falls.  By 
making  the  steps  tall  enough  to  save  two, 
and  by  making  the  tread  narrow,  I  reduced 
the  wear  on  the  carpet  to  a  minimum.  I 
believe  in  economy  where  it  is  possible.  For 
the  same  reason  I  had  the  stair  banisters  made 
wide,  with  a  saddle-like  top  to  the  newel 
post,  to  tempt  my  son  and  daughter  to  slide 
downstairs.  The  less  they  used  the  stairs  the 
longer  the  carpet  would  last. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  Sarah  has  a  fear  of 
burglars;  most  women  have.  As  for  myself, 
I  prefer  not  to  meet  a  burglar.  It  is  all  very 
well  to  get  up  in  the  night  and  prowl  about 
with  a  pistol  in  one  hand,  seeking  to  eliminate 
the  life  of  a  burglar,  and  some  men  may  like 
it;  but  I  am  of  a  very  excitable  nature,  and  I 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  89 

am  sure  that  if  I  did  find  a  burglar  and  suc 
ceeded  in  shooting  him,  I  should  be  in  such  an 
excited  state  that  I  could  not  sleep  again  that 
night  —  and  no  man  can  afford  to  lose  his 
night's  rest. 

There  are  other  objections  to  shooting  a 
burglar  in  the  house,  and  these  objections 
apply  with  double  force  when  the  house  and 
its  furnishings  are  entirely  new.  Although 
some  of  the  rugs  in  our  house  were  red,  not  all 
of  them  were;  and  I  had  no  guarantee  that  if  I 
shot  a  burglar  he  would  lie  down  on  a  red  rug 
to  bleed  to  death.  A  burglar  does  not  con 
sider  one's  feelings,  and  would  be  quite  as  apt 
to  bleed  on  a  green  rug,  and  spoil  it,  as  not. 
Until  burglarizing  is  properly  regulated  and 
burglars  are  educated,  as  they  should  be, 
in  technical  burglary  schools,  we  cannot 
hope  that  a  shot  burglar  will  staunch  his 
wound  until  he  can  find  a  red  rug  to  lie 
down  on. 

And  there  are  still  other  objections  to 
shooting  a  burglar.  If  all  burglars  were  fat, 


90  OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

one  of  these  would  be  removed;  but  perhaps  a 
thin  burglar  might  get  in  front  of  my  revolver, 
and  in  that  case  the  bullet  would  be  likely  to 
go  right  through  him  and  continue  on  its  way, 
and  perhaps  break  a  mirror  or  a  cut-glass 
dish.  I  am  a  thin  man  myself,  and  if  a  bur 
glar  shot  at  me  he  might  damage  things  in  the 
same  way. 

I  thought  all  these  things  over*when  we 
decided  to  build  in  the  suburbs,  for  Sarah  is 
very  nervous  about  burglars,  and  makes  me 
get  up  at  the  slightest  noise  and  go  poking 
about.  Only  the  fact  that  no  burglar  had 
ever  entered  our  flat  at  night  had  prevented 
what  might  have  been  a  serious  accident  to  a 
burglar,  for  I  made  it  a  rule,  when  Sarah 
wakened  me  on  such  occasions,  to  waste  no 
time,  but  to  go  through  the  rooms  as  hastily 
as  possible  and  get  back  to  bed;  and  at  the 
speed  I  travelled  I  might  have  bumped  into  a 
burglar  in  the  dark  and  knocked  him  over, 
and  his  head  might  have  struck  some  hard 
object,  causing  concussion  of  the  brain;  and 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  91 

as  a  burglar  has  a  small  brain  a  small  amount 
of  concussion  might  have  ruined  it  entirely. 
But  as  I  am  a  slight  man  it  might  have  been 
my  brain  that  got  concussed.  A  father  of 
a  family  has  to  think  of  these  things. 

The  nervousness  of  Sarah  regarding  bur 
glars  had  led  me  in  this  way  to  study  the  sub 
ject  carefully,  and  my  adoption  of  jet-black 
pajamas  as  nightwear  was  not  due  to  coward 
ice  on  my  part.  I  properly  reasoned  that  if  a 
burglar  tried  to  shoot  me  while  I  was  rushing 
around  the  house  after  him  in  the  darkness, 
a  suit  of  black  pajamas  would  somewhat  spoil 
his  aim,  and,  not  being  able  to  see  me,  he 
would  not  shoot  at  all.  In  this  way  I  should 
i  save  Sarah  the  nerve  shock  that  would  follow 
'the  explosion  of  a  pistol  in  the  house.  For 
Sarah  was  very  much  more  afraid  of  pistols 
1  than  of  burglars.  I  am  sure  there  were  only 
two  reasons  why  I  had  never  killed  a  burglar 
with  a  pistol:  one  was  that  no  burglar  had 
ever  entered  our  flat,  and  the  other  was  that 
I  never  had  a  pistol. 


92  OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

But  I  knew  that  one  is  much  less  protected 
in  a  suburb  than  in  town,  and  when  I  decided 
to  build  I  studied  the  burglar  protection 
matter  most  carefully.  I  said  nothing  to 
Sarah  about  it,  for  fear  it  would  upset  her 
nerves,  but  for  months  I  considered  every 
method  that  seemed  to  have  any  merit/  and 
that  would  avoid  getting  a  burglar's  blood  — 
or  mine  —  spattered  around  on  our  new  fur 
nishings.  I  desired  some  method  by  which 
I  could  finish  up  a  burglar  properly  without 
having  to  leave  my  bed,/ for  although  Sarah 
is  brave  enough  in  sending  me  out  of  bed  to 
catch  a  burglar,  I  knew  she  must  suffer  severe 
nerve  strain  during  the  time  I  was  wandering 
about  in  the  dark.  Her  objection  to  explosives 
had  also  to  be  considered,  and  I  really  had 
to  exercise  my  brain  more  than  common  be 
fore  I  hit  upon  what  I  may  now  consider 
the  only  perfect  method  of  handling  burglars. 

Several  things  coincided  to  suggest  my 
method.  One  of  these  was  Sarah's  foolish 
notion  that  our  silver  must,  every  night,  be 


f 


I 


I 

1 


CQ 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  93 

brought  from  the  dining-room  and  deposited 
under  our  bed.  This  I  considered  a  most 
foolhardy  tempting  of  fate.  It  coaxed  any 
burglar  who  ordinarily  would  have  quietly 
taken  the  silver  from  the  dining-room  and 
have  then  gone  away  peacefully,  to  enter  our 
room.  The  knowledge  that  I  lay  in  bed  ready 
at  any  time  to  spring  out  upon  him  would 
make  him  prepare  his  revolver,  and  his  ner 
vousness  might  make  him  shoot  me,  which 
would  quite  upset  Sarah's  nerves.  I  told 
Sarah  so,  but  she  had  a  hereditary  instinct 
for  bringing  the  silver  to  the  bedroom,  and 
insisted.  I  saw  that  in  the  suburban  house 
this  would  be  continued  as  "bringing  the 
silver  upstairs,"  and  a  trial  of  my  carpet- 
saving  stairs  suggested  to  me  my  burglar- 
defeating  plan.  I  had  the  apparatus  built 
into  the  house,  and  I  had  the  house  planned 
to  agree  with  the  apparatus. 

For  several  months  after  we  moved  into  the 
house  I  had  no  burglars,  but  I  felt  no  fear  of 
them  in  any  event.  I  was  prepared  for  them. 


94  OUR  FIRST   BURGLAR 

In  order  not  to  make  Sarah  nervous,  I 
explained  to  her  that  my  invention  of  a  silver- 
elevator  was  merely  a  time-saving  device. 
From  the  top  of  the  dining-room  sideboard  I 
ran  upright  tracks  through  the  ceiling  to  the 
back  of  the  hall  above,  and  in  these  I  placed 
a  glass  case,  which  could  be  run  up  and  down 
the  tracks  like  a  dumbwaiter.  All  our  ser 
vant  had  to  do  when  she  had  washed  the  silver 
was  to  put  it  in  the  glass  case,  and  I  had 
attached  to  the  top  of  the  case  a  stout  steel 
cable  which  ran  to  the  ceiling  of  the  hall  above, 
over  a  pulley,  and  so  to  our  bedroom,  which 
was  at  the  front  of  the  hall  upstairs.  By  this 
means  I  could,  when  I  was  in  bed,  pull  the 
cable,  and  the  glass  case  of  silver  would 
rise  to  th£  second  floor.  Our  bedroom  door 
opened  upon  the  hall,  and  from  the  bed  I 
could  see  the  glass  case;  but  in  order  that  I 
might  be  sure  that  the  silver  was  there  I  put 
a  small  electric  light  in  the  case  and  kept  it 
burning  all  night.  Sarah  was  delighted  with 
this  arrangement,  for  in  the  morning  all  I 


t 

?> 


! 

' 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  95 

had  to  do  was  to  pay  out  the  steel  cable  and 
the  silver  would  descend  to  the  dining-room, 
and  the  maid  could  have  the  table  all  set  by 
the  time  breakfast  was  ready.  Not  once  did 
Sarah  have  a  suspicion  that  all  this  was  not 
merely  a  household  economy,  but  my  burglar 
trap. 

On  the  sixth  of  August,  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  Sarah  awakened  me,  and  I  immedi 
ately  sat  straight  up  in  bed.  There  was  an 
undoubtable  noise  of  sawing,  and  I  knew  at 
once  that  a  burglar  was  entering  our  home. 
Sarah  was  trembling,  and  I  knew  she  was  get 
ting  nervous,  but  I  ordered  her  to  remain  calm. 

"Sarah,"  I  said,  in  a  whisper,  "be  calm! 
There  is  not  the  least  danger.  I  have  been 
expecting  this  for  some  time,  and  I  only  hope 
the  burglar  has  no  dependent  family  or  poor 
old  mother  to  support.  Whatever  happens, 
be  calm  and  keep  perfectly  quiet." 

With  that  I  released  the  steel  cable  from 
the  head  of  my  bed  and  let  the  glass  case  full 
of  silver  slide  noiselessly  to  the  sideboard. 


96  OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

"Edgar!"  whispered  Sarah  in  agonized 
tones,  "are  you  giving  him  our  silver?" 

"Sarah!"  I  whispered  sternly,  "remem 
ber  what  I  have  just  said.  Be  calm  and  keep 
perfectly  quiet."  And  I  would  say  no  more. 

In  a  very  short  time  I  heard  the  window 
below  us  open  softly,  and  I  knew  the  burglar 
was  entering  the  parlour  from  the  side  porch. 
I  counted  twenty,  which  I  had  figured  would 
be  the  time  required  for  him  to  reach  the 
dining-room,  and  then,  when  I  was  sure  he 
must  have  seen  the  silver  shining  in  the  glass 
case,  I  slowly  pulled  on  the  steel  cable  and 
raised  case  and  silver  to  the  hall  above.  Sarah 
began  to  whisper  to  me,  but  I  silenced  her. 

What  I  had  expected  happened.  The 
burglar,  seeing  the  silver  rise  through  the 
ceiling,  left  the  dining-room  and  went  into 
the  hall.  There,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  he 
could  see  the  case  glowing  in  the  hall  above, 
and  without  hesitation  he  mounted  the  stairs. 
As  he  reached  the  top  I  had  a  good  view  of 
him,  for  he  was  silhouetted  against  the  light 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  97 

that  glowed  from  the  silver  case.  He  was  a 
most  brutal  looking  fellow  of  the  prize-fighting 
type,  but  I  almost  laughed  aloud  when  I  saw 
his  build.  He  was  short  and  chunky.  As  he 
stepped  forward  to  grasp  the  silver  case,  I  let 
the  steel  cable  run  through  my  fingers,  and  the 
case  and  its  precious  contents  slid  noiselessly 
down  to  the  dining-room.  For  only  one 
instant  the  burglar  seemed  disconcerted,  then 
he  turned  and  ran  downstairs  again. 

This  time  I  did  not  wait  so  long  to  draw  up 
the  silver.  I  hardly  gave  him  time  to  reach 
the  dining-room  door  before  I  jerked  the 
cable,  and  the  case  was  glowing  in  the  upper 
hall.  The  burglar  immediately  stopped, 
turned,  and  mounted  the  stairs,  but  just  as  he 
reached  the  top  I  let  the  silver  slide  down 
again,  and  he  had  to  turn  and  descend. 
Hardly  had  he  reached  the  bottom  step  before 
I  had  the  silver  once  more  in  the  upper  hall. 

The  burglar  was  a  gritty  fellow  and  was 
not  to  be  so  easily  defeated.  With  some  word 
which  I  could  not  catch,  but  which  I  have  no 


98  OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

doubt  was  profane,  or  at  least  vulgar,  he 
dashed  u^>  the  stairs,  and  just  as  his  hand 
touched  the  case  I  let  the  silver  drop  to  the 
dining-room.  I  smiled  as  I  saw  his  next 
move.  He  carefully  removed  his  coat  and 
vest,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  took  off  his 
collar.  This  evidently  meant  that  he  intend 
ed  to  get  the  silver  if  it  took  the  whole  night, 
and  nothing  could  have  pleased  me  more.  I 
lay  in  my  comfortable  bed  fairly  shaking  with 
suppressed  laughter,  and  had  to  stuff  a  corner 
of  a  pillow  in  my  mouth  to  smother  the  sound 
of  my  mirth.  I  did  not  allow  the  least  pity 
for  the  unfortunate  fellow  to  weaken  my  nerve. 

A  low,  long  screech  from  the  hall  told  me 
that  I  had  a  man  of  uncommon  brain  to  con 
tend  with,  for  I  knew  the  sound  came  from 
his  hands  drawing  along  the  banister,  and 
that  to  husband  his  strength  and  to  save  time, 
he  was  sliding  down.  But  this  did  not  dis 
concert  me.  It  pleased  me.  The  quicker  he 
went  down,  the  oftener  he  would  have  to  walk  up. 

For  half  an  hour  I  played  with  him,  giving 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR  99 

him  just  time  to  get  dCwn  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  before  I  raised  the  silver,  and  just  time 
to  reach  the  top  before  I  lowered  it,  and  then  I 
grew  tired  of  the  sport  —  for  it  was  nothing 
else  to  me  —  and  decided  to  finish  him  off. 
I  was  getting  sleepy,  but  it  was  evident  that 
the  burglar  was  not,  and  I  was  a  little  afraid  I 
might  fall  asleep  and  thus  defeat  myself.  The 
burglar  had  that  advantage  because  he  was 
used  to  night  work.  So  I  quickened  my 
movements  a  little.  ^Tien  the  burglar  slid 
down  I  gave  him  just  time  to  see  the  silver 
rise  through  the  ceiling,  and  when  he  climbed 
the  stairs  I  only  allowed  him  to  see  it  descend 
through  the  floor.  In  this  way  I  made  him 
double  his  pace,  and  as  I  quickened  my  move 
ments  I  soon  had  him  dashing  up  the  stairs 
and  sliding  down  again  as  if  for  a  wager.  I 
did  not  give  him  a  moment  for  rest,  and 
he  was  soon  panting  terribly  and  beginning 
to  stumble;  but  with  almost  superhuman 
nerve  he  kept  up  the  chase.  He  was  an 
unusually  tough  burglar. 


100         OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR 

But  quick  as  he  was  I  was  always  quicker, 
and  a  glimpse  of  the  glowing  case  was  all  I  let 
him  have  at  either  end  of  his  climb  or  slide. 
No  sooner  was  he  down  than  it  was  up,  and 
no  sooner  was  the  case  up  than  he  was  up 
after  it.  In  this  way  I  kept  increasing  his 
speed  until  it  was  something  terrific,  and  the 
whole  house  shook,  like  an  automobile  with  a 
very  powerful  motor.  But  still  his  speed  in 
creased.  I  saw  then  that  I  had  brought  him 
to  the  place  I  had  prepared  for,  where  he  had 
but  one  object  in  life,  and  that  was  to  beat  the 
case  up  or  down  stairs;  and  as  I  was  now  so 
sleepy  I  could  hardly  keep  my  eyes  open,  I  did 
what  I  had  intended  to  do  from  the  first.  I 
lowered  the  case  until  it  was  exactly  between 
the  ceiling  of  the  dining-room  and  the  floor  of 
the  hall  above  —  and  turned  out  the  electric 
light.  I  then  tied  the  steel  cable  securely  to 
the  head  of  my  bed,  turned  over,  and  went  to 
sleep,  lulled  by  the  shaking  of  the  house  as  the 
burglar  dashed  up  and  down  the  stairs. 

Just  how  long  this  continued  I  do  not  know, 


OUR  FIRST  BURGLAR         101 

for  my  sleep  was  deep  and  dreamless,  but  I 
should  judge  that  the  burglar  ran  himself  to 
death  sometime  between  half-past  three  and 
a  quarter  after  four.  So  great  had  been  his 
efforts  that  when  I  went  to  remove  him  I  did 
not  recognize  him  at  all.  When  I  had  seen 
him  last  in  the  glow  of  the  glass  silver  case 
he  had  been  a  stout,  chunky  fellow,  and  now 
his  remains  were  those  of  an  emaciated  man. 
He  must  have  run  off  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  of  flesh  before  he  gave  out. 

Only  one  thing  clouded  my  triumph.  Our 
silver  consisted  of  but  half  a  dozen  each  of 
knives,  forks,  and  spoons,  a  butter  knife,  and 
a  sugar  spoon,  all  plated,  and  worth  prob 
ably  five  dollars,  and  to  save  this  I  had  made 
the  burglar  wear  to  rags  a  Wilton  stair  carpet 
worth  twenty-nine  dollars.  But  I  have  now 
corrected  this.  I  have  bought  fifty  dollars' 
worth  of  silver. 

THE   END 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN     INITIAL     FINE     OF     25     CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


37  1933 


JUN 


WAY  3     1346 


1938 


LD  21-50m-l,'33 


YB   73105 


f 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


